I HATE HATE HATE LISTENING TO OLD PUNK SONGS AND FEELING EVERY FUCKING SYLLABLE.

WHAT DO YOU MEAN THIS ALBUM FROM 1996 IS GROWING MORE AND MORE ACCURATE AND IMPORTANT AGAIN. WHAT DO YOU MEAN I FEEL EXACTLY THE SAME ABOUT THE SAME INJUSTICES AS PUNK TEENS FROM THE 80s. WE'RE SUPPOSED TO FUCKING GO FORWARD AS SOCIETY THINGS ARE SUPPOSED TO GET BETTER I WANT NEW STRUGGLES! NEW! STRUGGLES!!

But, as Social Distortion put it so nicely in 1996: "Taking two steps forward and four steps back." (from Don't Drag Me Down, which is scarily accurate, h e l p.)

The Hottest Avenger - Bucky Barnes

a/n: im warning you, i will probably not stop for a while with the bucky fics so... brace yourselves lol! also i wrote this before ep 5 came out so its placed in that time

pairing: Bucky X Reader

warnings: TFATWS spoiler, some violence? nothing extreme

word count: 1.8k

summary: Being locked together with Sam and Bucky brings the worst out of you, picking on each other constantly. Following an arguement Bucky accidentally calls you his girlfriend in front of Sam when your relationship was supposed to be a secret.

masterlist

“Did you fucking eat the last dumpling?” you accuse Sam, holding up the empty takeout box where you thought were one more dumpling, one you’ve saved for yourself, but now it’s gone as Sam is eyeing you with his mouth full.

“Thought it was mine,” he mumbles, his words barely understandable from all the food in his mouth.

Taking a deep breath you’re trying not to jump at his throat right then and there. You’ve been locked up together all damn day in the trashy apartment across the street from the building where’s Zemo supposed to be hiding. Sharon had a tip about a possible place where he might be found, but you’ve been waiting to no avail for now. You’ve been growing stressed and impatient. You lost track of Karli and her people and now you can’t seem to find Zemo either. If it wasn’t for the Dora Milaje, you wouldn’t bother to be so after the asshole, but Bucky said if Ayo finds him first, he is dead and every useful information he holds goes to the grave with him so now you are forced to look for him. One failed mission has been following the other these days, that incompetent dickhead John is on the loose too after murdering that man in front of civilians and you feel like control has slipped out of your grip a long time ago. Now you’re stuck with Sam and Bucky in this crappy place, waiting by the window, watching out for Zemo and on top of everything… Sam ate your last dumpling.

Just when you’re about to snap at him, you feel a strong grip on your shoulder. You don’t have to look up to know it’s Bucky right behind you, but not just because he is the only other person in the room beside you and Sam, but also because you know his touch probably more than anyone. Only that most of the times it’s not your shoulder he is gripping…

It’s been going on for a long time between the two of you. Started with just some innocent flirting and you never thought it would grow into something more significant, but it did. And now you are officially in a relationship with none other than the Winter Soldier, only that no one else knows about it and you plan to keep it that way. You don’t need the teasing and jokes and the Avengers are known to be dicks sometimes, especially Sam.

Glancing up your eyes meet Bucky’s blue irises and he sends you a look that says “just let it go”, and though every fiber in you wants to whoop Sam’s ass, you let it slip.

“Don’t tell me you’re gonna get mad about a dumpling,” Sam chuckles as he chews on the food that you should be enjoying right now.

“I can get mad about whatever I want to,” you growl back, growing quite irritated of him at this point.

“Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed,” he huffs under his breath, clearly not as bothered as he should be. Before you could do any harm in him, you leave your spot by the window, needing a breather from… well, from him.

“Hey, it’s still your turn!” he calls after you.

“I need a break,” you growl back.

“Get your ass back here, we agreed to switch every two hours!”

“Sam! I’m walking out because I’m way too tempted to punch you in the face right now!” you snap at him, losing your patience. He rises from his seat with a hard expression, not quite a fan of the way you just talked to him, but you couldn’t care less.

“You think you could actually throw one? Because last time we fought you couldn’t really get a hold of me,” he narrows his eyes at you, coming to stand tall in front of you, trying to intimidate you with how much taller and stronger he might be, but you both know you’re a better fighter.

“It’s easy to talk with your fancy tech stuff. Why don’t we see who wins in a simple battle?” you challenge him with faked boredom.

“Guys, stop. We should be looking out for Zemo, not tearing each other apart,” Bucky tries to end the staring contest, sticking his metal arm between the two of you in case any of you decides to launch at the other one.

“Then tell her to stop bitching!” Sam nods in your way.

“I’m not bitching, I’m just fed up with your bullshit!” you spat back at him, leaning closer, your chest coming in contact with Bucky’s extended arm.

“Don’t talk to her like that, Sam,” Bucky warns him, but Sam snorts dryly.

“Don’t tell me you are taking her side, she is throwing a fit for a fucking dumpling!”

“I’m not taking sides, just trying to settle this stupid disagreement here,” he defends himself and you roll your eyes.

“You can’t tell me she is not overreacting it, Buck!” Sam laughs in disbelief, taking a step back, dropping the act that he wants to fight you. He probably knows he would come out as a ridiculous loser. “This is fucking insane, I’m not in the mood to deal with your shit, Y/N,” he shakes his head.

“Hey!” Bucky snaps at him. “Don’t talk to my girlfriend like that, okay?!”

“I’m just—wait, what?!” Sam’s eyes widen and you freeze too.

Your dumbass boyfriend didn’t just out the two of you, did he? What else is about to come?! Sam’s shock turns into a cocky grin as his eyes shift between you and Bucky.

“You guys… you guys are fucking?” he asks with a delightful laugh and you close your eyes sighing, already tired of his shit.

“That’s not—We’re not fucking, I mean… It’s not like that,” Bucky stutters, but it’s just making it worse. He looks at you with terror in his eyes, but you are way too drained to deal with it the right way.

“Yes, we are fucking! And we are in a mature adult relationship! Get yourself over it!” you bark at Sam before turning around and walking out.

You faintly hear the two men talk inside, but you don’t make out the words. You don’t go too far, sitting on the steps leading up to the third floor. Soon enough you hear the door of the apartment open with a creak and a moment later Bucky shows up in your sight. He sits beside you, remaining silent for a little before speaking up.

“Sorry for running my mouth,” he mumbles, his head hanging low.

“It’s… fine,” you breathe out. Bucky fidgets with his fingers and you know he wants to touch you in any kind of way as a reassurance that it really is fine. You don’t want to hold a grudge, it was an accident, you’re just a little bummed it’s not gonna be just the two of you anymore. Reaching out you take his hand, the real one that’s flesh and meat and you lace your fingers together as he peeks at you, still reserved and hesitant.

“Is it really fine or are you just bottling it up?”

“It really is fine,” you chuckle softly and leaning closer you kiss his scruffy cheek. “The only reason I wanted to keep it a secret is because you know how vickery the guys can get. I just didn’t want them to pick on us.”

“They do it because they are just jealous,” he smirks playfully, his shoulder bumping against yours.

“Yeah? Of what?” A soft chuckle slips through your lips.

“That I scored the hottest Avenger,” he replies smugly and you can’t help but laugh with your head snapping back.

“I didn’t know you were fucking Thor!” you retort and immediately see his smirk vanish from his lips as he stares back at you, not enjoying your joke as much as you are.

“Thor? Really? Not this shit again, Y/N,” he narrows his eyes at you. Back when you were just skirting around each other, you loved pulling his leg, joking about how much you are into the hottest Avenger, aka Thor. He never appreciated it, usually earned you a tight-lipped smile before he mumbled “Tarzan’s got nothing on me” before walking away, leaving you laughing like a hyena.

“Come on, you know I’m more into super soldiers,” you grin, leaning closer as he pepper his sharp jawline with more small kisses.

“You know, it’s not the best thing to say to your boyfriend when there are now about eight more super soldiers running around,” he huffs.

“But none of them has a metal arm,” you point out, finally making him laugh.

“So that’s your kink? A vibranium arm?” he asks with faked shock and you curl your arms around his bicep, resting your chin on his shoulder.

“How haven’t you realized yet?” you chuckle. Bucky turns his head until his lips can capture yours in a sweet, lighthearted kiss that makes you forget about everything that’s been clouding over your mind these past days. All the failures, the mistakes and chaos fades into nothing, because you have him and he has you.

Walking back into the apartment Sam stares back at you, neither of you entirely sure how to act after what just happened. He then grabs his phone from the dusty table before holding it up.

“I could order some extra dumplings,” he offers and you crack a smile shaking your head. This was his peace offering, both of you knows he won’t straight up apologize for the way he talked, but this is already more than what you were expecting from him. Bucky must have had a few words with him before joining you outside.

“It’s all good.”

The three of you get back to work, taking your previous spots, returning to the task on hand as silence falls on the room once again. You catch Sam glancing at you and the Bucky and you can tell he is about to make a snarky comment on your relationship. And just as he is about to open his big mouth, Bucky moves to silence him, but you’re faster. With a simple move you throw Sam to the ground, keeping him down with your hand wrapped around his neck.

“Don’t even think about teasing, understood?” you hiss at him as he gasps for air, his hands wrapping around your wrist as he tries to fight you off, but you hold him a second longer to emphasize the importance of your words. Then you finally let go of him and he coughs for air, fixing him up from the floor as you simply walk back to your spot by the window.

“Hottest Avenger, huh?” he breathes out, revealing that he heard what you talked about out on the stairs. “More like the Avenger with the most anger issues…”

You just grin, glancing over at your boyfriend who is now standing with his arms crossed over his chest, not even bothered by his friend’s struggles on the floor as he smirks back at you, nodding proudly as if he was saying: “That’s my girl.”

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed it!

game over

timeskip!kenma x f!reader

sum: kenma gets a little jealous that you're ahead of him in a game and does whatever it takes to mess you up

cw: 18+ minors dni, nsfw, smut, dubcon (you just wanna play ur game) fingering, later implied oral (male receiving), established relationship, petty kenma, gaming

a/n: ive been replaying botw recently and im just imagining kenma dying to darkbeast ganon loll

kenma was busier than he had ever been in his life. it took a lot of time to oversee a business, go to university, and play games. you, on the other hand, only played casually for fun.

it was an accident that you had gotten so far ahead in the new open world adventure game than he had. honestly, you didn't even really know where he was at in the game nor did you think about it. kenma was usually so realistic about himself he didn't get jealous of other players. but for some reason watching you battle against the second to last boss sent him into a petty tizzy.

while you were often the one to initiate most intimate times with him, you had barely looked at him all night. instead you sat, nestled beside him in bed silently clicking away at your device. the soft music and sounds you had turned down low mocked him.

you were oblivious to his feelings. although, it was difficult to not be. he was just tapping on his laptop like usual, answering emails and making plans.

nothing seemed amiss until after he had put the computer away. he shuffled back to the bed and maneuvered around you so your back was resting against his chest. his arms wrapped around your middle as he rested his chin over your shoulder to watch. for a moment, his plans were thwarted by his own attention being moved to the action on the screen.

you sunk back into him, innocently enjoying the comfortable moment. his hands kneaded up and down your torso and you tried to pay it no mind. you had already lost this battle a good handful of times, but you were so close to the finish now you could nearly taste it.

"kenma!" you gasp when he tweaks your nipple under your shirt. but still, your motions don't falter. "in a minute, i'm just so close." you sigh.

"mhmm." he hums in agreement, but his hands keep moving. finally, his fingers are toying with the hem of your sweatpants. "just ignore me."

you're really trying. but those soft touches that graze up and down your skin have already made you lose some of your focus. you're character is getting hit more and more with each passing second.

when his lithe fingers slip against your slowly leaking folds your hand clenches around the device. he presses a soft, little kiss against your clothed shoulder as though he's done nothing. secretly, he's enjoying watching your health bar go down - a sign that he's winning.

a finger slips into you, making your hips buck up, to gather some slick. he agonizingly drags it up to your clit before starting easy circles against it with the pads of his index and middle fingers.

you try to clamp your thighs shut, but it only makes him inadvertently apply more pressure. at this point you know you should just put down the game, but you also really just want to win even if it is a losing battle.

"k-kenma, what are you...?"

"shhh, you should really dodge that." he whispers into your ear. his hand that isn't preoccupied with your throbbing clit is toying with your hardened nipples.

his advice is correct, but your find yourself unable to follow it. the damage you take it almost enough to kill your character. that's not as high up in your mind as how close you were to cumming though.

"close..." you purr out, back arching against him.

"yeah, you are." his eyes are glued to the two hearts you have left.

he glances to where you head is lolled to the side, leaving your neck wide open. seeing his opening, he nuzzles his lips against you and bites down into your delicate flesh.

the buzz between his practiced hands on your body to the sting from his nip is enough to send you over the edge. you come crashing into an orgasm, seeing stars. you clutch the game device against your chest and the sad little tune that you're character has died plays out across the screen.

huffing, you finally make it back from your release just as he links his hands across your waist again. "you did that on purpose," you pout. too tired to carry on, you save and set the device on your bedside table.

"you might have died anyway." he deadpans into your shoulder.

"sure," you scoff as you roll over onto your knees and hover your head just above his hips. his cock is already half hard from all of your squirming, but the look you give him makes him perk up a little more. you snatch your device back off the table and shove it into his hands. "let's see you do it." you hum against him just before you begin to mouth him over the soft fabric.

he's unsure he even wants to play, but with your lovely hands pulling down the band of his boxers how can he say no.

⤙ sober | jason todd

warnings: drunken stupidity, mild sexual content beta’d: nah request: nope! a/n: a re-write because i’m inactive im sorry part 48469 please mind typos

The drunk mind speaks the sober heart.

‘And what the fuck is that supposed to mean?’

‘It means you can’t go one second without flirting with someone!’

The exchange hadn’t begun until you were a couple drinks in and your boyfriend brought up how he didn’t like the way one of your friends spoke to you. It was a conversation that should have been had with ease and thought but turned into something nasty when alcohol was added to the mix. Two different people emerged at night when these things happened, leaving you both a mess and wanting nothing but to leave.

‘Do you just want me to get rid of all my friends then? What about all the people you hang around with? You aren’t innocent in this!’ You hissed, knocking one of the glass bottles off the table to shatter onto the ground and it had happened so many times in the past that neither of you flinched.

‘That’s not- I didn’t- Why are you even being like this?’ He was getting frustrated and it was obvious with how he pushed his hair back and clenched his jaw, ‘I’ve kind of got a real social job, do you expect me never to be around anyone? I have to be! But what the fuck have I ever done?’

He was right. That sober part of your mind told you that and anytime he was with people, he was moderately friendly and work was something you knew he had to do.. You, on the other hand, were scared. Just like him. Scared that one day this would all get old, that one day you’d both walk away and never come back.. scared, even, that the other would disappear off to someone else.

But it didn’t end there, the insecurities grew and came out the more you both drank to numb the previous battle. The night drew to an end as you disappeared to the bedroom and he disappeared to the spare, leaving that empty feeling of sleeping alone to settle within both of you.

When morning arrived and you stepped from the room, you were greeted with a nightmare. Bottles broken on the floor, the couch pushed crooked and even a lamp lay in a heap on the floor from where it had been thrown at the wall. Your head throbbed and you just sank down to the floor to sit, not wanting to risk getting glass in your feet. Everything was loud and annoying to the point your head didn’t even raise when you heard the familiar sounds of shuffling around the apartment.

Soon enough you felt a body next to yours and an arm go around your shoulders as a cold bottle was carefully fitted into your hand. ‘Drink,’ was all the latter said, hand moving to caress the skin beneath his thumb.

It was routine and it was getting tiring. You were both tired of promising the other things would change when you sobered up; promising to start over when you both had clear minds.

‘We can’t keep doing this,’ you mumbled, taking a sip from the bottle with a grimace, already past the point of crying over the situation. It had happened far too many times and you could no longer bring yourself to feel broken or give it the emotional outbreak it sought out.

Jason was quiet for a while, simply tilting his head to press a kiss to your shoulder, taking the time to look and scrape for the words to make things better; another, hopefully not empty, promise. ‘We say that yet it happens again,’ he began, a weak chuckle following, ‘I can’t.. say I love you when I’m sober then throw it all away when I’m not.. what’s the point of all of this..?’

‘Does that mean you don’t fully love me?’ you questioned and you could practically hear him rolling his eyes, ‘We need to.. figure something out. Learn to bring things up, communicate without the need to drink. A..are we so broken that we need alcohol to be honest with each other?’

‘We really suck, huh?’

Lifting your head to look at him, there was a deep frown on your lips and you had to resist the urge to push him off of you at the cheeky little grin you saw. ‘You suck,’ you muttered, leaning to nuzzle his cheek, ‘We need help.’

Knocking your foreheads together, he sighed and pulled you closer. ‘No shit, I thought we were perfectly fine,’ he answered, earning an elbow to the ribs that made him groan, ‘Therapy? Alcohols anonymous? What are we supposed to do? Just.. start over?’

‘Yeah. Let’s.. let’s just start over. No alcohol.. we have to talk.’

‘In our defense, we do talk.’

‘You throwing a lamp at the wall is not talking, mister.’  

Silence fell over you both and you were glad neither of you often had company, meaning no one saw this little part of your relationship that stayed behind closed doors. Words didn’t come easily to either of you but emotions did and they came strong, resulting in far too many backfires in attempts to talk. It had crossed your mind to seek the attention of someone else and you knew he was the same as that had been one of your late night discussions, resulting in a lot of crying the morning after. ‘So.. are we going to at least continue the way this normally goes?’

The words were accompanied by a hand sliding around your thigh to dip between them and really, it took everything in you not to let your eyes roll to the back of your head in amusement and some annoyance. ‘Fucking hate you,’ you breathed out but didn’t stop him, just let your head tip back against the wall. Happy with your response and the lack of heat the words held, he was already shifting around to be in front of you, pulling your pajama shorts down with a faint smirk. ‘Just give me a few seconds, I’m sure you’ll be saying something different,’ he cooed softly, pulling you forward by your hips.

‘Just- shut up before I change my mind.. we’re still looking for a therapist later,’ you barely got through the sentence when lips met your inner thigh and your fingers were already sliding through his hair, ‘y-your mouth isn’t magic enough to just rid of us t-this fo– fuck!’ The words were cut and you ended up letting out a sharp whine, practically melting back into the wall. You didn’t get a verbal response from him but you didn’t need one, too long in how he worked you.

You both really hated being drunk but you weren’t complaining about the sober makeup sessions that followed.

i have returned with an offering of fraldarddyd:

between bouts

Felix landed on the ground with a humiliating thump, his blade clattering uselessly into the dust. He rolled his eyes when Dimitri started talking.

“You were so focused on parrying that you let me trip you easily,” the prince of Faerghus mused from above him, the sunlight glistening on the steel head of his training lance and tracing his fine silhouette. “Next time, make sure to be aware of every—”

“Oh, will you stop!” Felix exclaimed, thrashing his legs in annoyance and making furrows in the dirt with his heels. “I get it. I’m not as good as you. I never will be.”

Dimitri sighed and flopped down next to his friend, the pair lying head to head in the center of the deserted training grounds. They had been up since sunrise, sparring together—along with Ingrid and Sylvain, who had recently ditched them for breakfast—in preparation for the mock battles that were to occur later in the day, and the only thing Felix gained was fatigue and a newfound appreciation for sitting.

“Don’t give me that, Felix,” Dimitri muttered. “We both know I’m useless with a sword. You’d easily best me if it weren’t for the fact that I had a lance with me.”

“And we also know that I’m useless without a sword,” Felix grumbled, folding his arms indignantly. “I think my second best weapon would be a staff. I could heal everyone from really, really far away, so as no one punches me and kills me instantly.”

Dimitri grinned, then laughed, his hand traveling from his heaving chest to his sweaty face. He always covered his face when he laughed; Felix never knew why, though he never really thought of asking before. It was always just a part of Dimitri, just as diplomacy and nitpicking was a part of him, too.

After a bit of comfortable silence, both young men regaining their lost breath, Felix cleared his throat. “Why do you…do that when you laugh?”

Felix glanced sideways to where Dimitri lay beside him, staring into the cloudless morning sky. “What do you mean?”

“You know, you kinda…cover your mouth with your hand. Why do you do that? Does your breath smell especially bad when you laugh?” Felix taunted, his innocent question subconsciously turning into a jibe.

Dimitri smirked and elbowed Felix in the ribs. “Of course not. At least, I hope.” Felix smiled to himself as the prince awkwardly checked his breath.

“Then why?”

“Does it matter?”

“…Well, I guess not. I was just wondering, is all. Besides, your hand muffles your laugh, and it doesn’t sound as good when it’s muffled.”

Felix’s own hand suddenly flew to his mouth, and Dimitri was silent. Felix didn’t dare to look at his childhood friend; he felt that if he did, he would die on the spot.

The air felt thicker than usual now.

“…Felix,” Dimitri said quietly after a long time, and Felix had to focus to breathe now. “Is there something you want to say to me?”

The fact that he could hear the prince’s smile made Felix even more embarrassed, and his voice squeaked a little when he replied, “No…?”

“Are you feeling a certain way?” Dimitri pried again, amusement bubbling in his often calm, level voice.

“I feel sweaty,” Felix replied stupidly, “if that helps at all.” He felt he was digging himself into a deeper hole with every word he spoke.

Felix heard another muffled snicker, and he chanced a look at the prince, about to chastise him for covering his face again. 

Dimitri was lying on his side now, his sky blue eyes gazing fondly at his friend. His right hand covered the bridge of his nose and the edge of his lips, and his head rested on the crook of his left arm, a couple strands of his blonde hair sticking to his forehead from perspiration. Felix lost feeling in his limbs, and blood rushed up into his face.

“To answer your question…my nose wrinkles a little whenever I laugh, and it looks weird. I just don’t like getting picked on for it.”

Felix woke from his stupor in a wave of anger. “People pick on you for how you laugh?” he demanded, and Dimitri’s warm gaze suddenly faded as he looked away.

“Well, not really. Not anymore. But back when we were little, some older kids would…” Dimitri shook his head, as if to dismiss the topic. “It doesn’t matter any longer.”

“Those…those—” Felix couldn’t find a word in his vocabulary to describe his hatred. He struck the ground beneath him with the side of his fist. “They’d poke fun at the prince of Faerghus? They’d really dare to do that?”

“It doesn’t matter, really,” Dimitri insisted, sounding nervous. “It’s all in the past. Besides, it didn’t bother me much—”

“You’re really going to lie to me like that?” Felix interrupted, and Dimitri looked up at him in surprise. “Those…freaks made you change the way you—you express your happiness! It’s like a grasshopper getting one of its leg chopped off, and telling you not to worry since it can still walk with five!”

Dimitri stared in shock at Felix, who stared back, his amber eyes narrowed. The silence that fell over them was not comfortable.

“Besides,” Felix added after a while, folding his arms again. “If your laugh was anything like your smile, then I’m sure it’d be pretty cute.”

Dimitri’s eyes softened, and he stared up into the sky again without a word. Felix, however, wanted to get trampled by a horse. Cute? Cute? He’d never used that word once in his entire life.

The sun was rising higher in the sky now, and classes would be beginning soon. Felix turned to tell Dimitri of this, but stopped when he noticed what the prince was doing.

He was touching his face with the tips of his fingers, half smiling, full smiling, then beaming widely, then frowning and shaking his head, dust dirtying his sweat-slicked hair whenever he did so.

“You don’t have to practice,” Felix murmured, and Dimitri flinched, his hand quickly retracting from his lips to his chest. His old friend turned his head to face him fully. “I just think—peh!” A couple strands of navy hair had slipped into Felix’s mouth, and Dimitri chuckled as the amber-eyed young man struggled to fish them out, and then he started to laugh as Felix nearly choked pulling them free.

“H-Hey!” Felix gasped, letting the strands of hair fall back on his face. “Stop it!” But then, he saw that Dimitri’s hands were still clasped over his sternum, and the bridge of his nose was scrunched up as he laughed, and he looked—Felix hadn’t used this word at all in his life either—adorable.

When Dimitri opened his eyes again, they were glistening with tears of happiness. He smiled, and Felix couldn’t help following suit. He tried not to leap three feet in the air when Dimitri took one of his hands, letting his fingers rest on the back of Felix’s wrist in the small space between them.

“Thank you for your counsel, Felix.” Dimitri’s voice was as soft and light as summer wind, and Felix felt a little rush of delight course through his veins at the sound of his name. “I’ll bear it all in mind.”

“Good,” Felix murmured, beaming a little wider. “I’d really like to see you be happy more often.”

“Then maybe I should take you wherever I go.” Dimitri inched his face a little closer to Felix’s on the dusty ground. “You always make me happy.”

Felix’s heart swelled, and he let his forehead rest against the prince’s. Where they lay together in the center of the training grounds, it felt still and silent, as quiet as a winter wood. Dimitri’s eyes were the moonlit sky, his even breathing the warmth of the hearth.

“What will Dedue think, if I’m following you everywhere?” Felix whispered, and Dimitri laughed a little under his breath again. It sounded like birdsong.

“Don’t think about it, while you’re still in one piece.” Dimitri laced his fingers together with Felix’s, and he closed his beautiful eyes. Felix guided a stray lock of hair behind Dimitri’s ear with his free hand, then closed his own eyes. “If you’re going to die so soon, then we have much ground to cover.”

“Please don’t say things like th—”

Felix’s remark was cut off when Dimitri crossed the space between them, placing a light kiss upon Felix’s lips. The fire that filled him was different than the kind that burned in the hearths of the dining hall; it was a golden, nourishing kind, a kind that mended him, made him forget the bad things, made him feel at peace.

It was over in an instant, but the feeling seemed to last long beyond their parting.

Felix opened his eyes, and Dimitri was watching him, blushing just a little. The sun danced on his skin and made his eyes glow with warmth.

The prince kept looking at Felix, as if he was expecting something to be said.

“Um…thanks,” Felix spluttered, and Dimitri laughed again, wrapping his arms around Felix and hugging him tightly.

“You didn’t have to say anything. I just…it only occurred to me now how handsome you are,” Dimitri mumbled into Felix’s shoulder.

“Just now?” Felix exclaimed, holding him close, and Dimitri simpered and got to his knees, taking Felix’s hand to help him up. The prince pulled and pulled, and the most he did was lift the small of Felix’s back off the ground for an instant.

“Can we stay here a little longer? I’m still tired,” Felix complained, and Dimitri sighed and folded his arms. When Felix still didn’t get up, he lay back down.

“You’re lucky I’m in love with you,” he pointed out, affection softening his words, and Felix grinned widely, letting the side of his face rest against the top of Dimitri’s head.

“Yeah. I am.”

———-

notes from bae:

GDSFHHDGFSHJFDSHGDFGDFHJHC???? IGAFSGGFUAYFG??? IM??? THIS IS SO SOFT IM GOING TO DIE????? IM CRYHIGNG?????? I???? DONT KNOW WHAT TO SAY??????

Huntsman’s Dragon, Preamble

This is the preamble to a focused starter (link here). It opens with a flashback that doesn't adequately allude to the full thing, so I would encourage viewers to read this fully... buuut it IS roughly 2000+ words in length, so it's understandable/I can't force otherwise if you don't read it.

Prologue

He remembers lazuli eyes staring brightly down at him o’er golden belly and golden wings, long whiplike tail swishing teasingly just out of reach. He remembers swiping for it, jumping, leaping, chasing; but always even the smallest of tide-polished scales darts further away than his stubby hands can grasp. He remembers huffing and dropping his rump on russet autumn leaves, furious that he has failed even so simple a task. It’s just like catching lizards and crawdads, he thinks! What could possibly be so hard about it?

(The answer, of course, is that neither are as deft in the air as his current prey. Neither of them are dragons.)

“This sucks!” he cries petulantly into the woods. “You can fly and I can’t! How is that even fair?! Can’t I play with you, even just a little…?”

He doesn’t expect anyone will hear him this far from the village, least of all the dragon; yet lo and behold, it alights and approaches him slowly, eyes wary, wings tucked, ears flattened against its horns, spines raised like hackles on a cat. ‘Strange,’ he thinks; ‘Didn’t Father tell me scared things never come close?’ But the greater part of him is enraptured, amazed that a little king of the skies might actually have listened to him when even Julian would not. (He should have been frightened, for even on all fours, its shoulders are still level with his chest; both its tail and wings could knock him flat in one sweep.) Round-eyed, he reaches out with a stubby hand. The dragon looks like it could eat him for breakfast, yet it cringes away from his fingers. Forked tongue flicks out to graze their tips—pulse racing, Caspar holds still. Very still.

He is certain the dragon can feel his heartbeat in the still autumn air.

It doesn’t move from tongue-licking distance. Slowly, he uncurls his fingers, rests them on the dragon’s snout. It flinches back with a startled chirp—Caspar flinches and gasps in turn. They stare at each other for several long moments, round sky-blue eyes meeting slitted lazuli.

A leathery tongue brushes fragile skin once more. Then the rest of the dragon comes, scaled head gliding smoothly ‘neath callused fingers.

The boy resists an urge to whoop out loud—doing so will surely frighten his new friend away. Instead, he simply watches the little dragon nuzzling him; then, slowly, he begins to wiggle his fingers to and fro atop its head. Those tide-polished scales feel so much more divine than they look, like silk and plate combined. It twitches under his motions, but relaxes almost as quickly. Unblinking lazuli eyes stare up at him. Are they perhaps as curious as his own? Whatever the reason, it doesn’t run away from him. Maybe, just maybe, it likes him.

You know what? He likes it too.

“I think I’ll call you Linny,” he says softly. He’s kinda proud of that name–it looks like a lindworm, all long and snakelike, and it’s cute besides! By now he’s finished stroking its nose and moved up towards the short ridges over its eyes. It chirps at him in response, and he smiles. “I bet we’re going to be good friends, Linny…”

---

Thread Start

“Oi, didja hear aboot the dragon a’ Oghma Moontens?”

“‘ow could I not? Made off with me neighbor’s best cows just a moon ago, and me neighbor’s babe too. Poor lass still squalls at night, wouldn’t ya knew.”

Definitely the right village, he notes as he hitches Ulric’s reins to a stable pole beside the pub. Daevin had been a sprawling place on the regional maps, but now several of the distant buildings were wrecked clear down to the foundation. The dragon must have attacked this place recently for folks to be talking about it so openly—perhaps it had even attacked only once, if they had not learned its attack patterns well enough to hide. He’d ridden almost a fortnight from Enbarr to get here, ever since Gilead summoned him back from Arundel to update him on his current mission. “I’ve reports of a demon loose in the Oghma Mountains,” he’d told him, “ransacking towns, stealing the villagers’ valuables, and attacking the weak and foolhardy besides. My scouts confirm it’s a dragon, black-scaled, size fit to block out the sun. We don’t know where it came from, but it’s not part of the Grand Council, so it falls to us now to take it down. Be sure to wear your best gear. Failure is not permitted.”

Yeah, yeah, Caspar snipes at his internal Gilead-voice. For however much his father enjoys parading about in armor in the capital, all it’s ever done for him while traveling is earn him wary looks and wide berths, even when he’s doing nothing more dangerous than stabling his horse. He knows how they think: Even lone armed men coming into an otherwise peaceful town almost never bodes well. But even after years on the job, the way the villagers’ tongues still as they finally register the stranger in their midst still injures him. He’s not some creepy mage come for their scalps—heck, he’s even in plainclothes this time. At least, as plain as he is comfortable with.

Padded chestnut gambeson rustles as he straightens up from Ulric’s flank (he did bring his plate, as instructed, but it’s safely tucked inside two of the young destrier’s saddlebags) and takes a step towards the villagers. There are three of them talking. The youngest-looking one shrinks back as he approaches; Caspar gives them a smile and holds up his hands in placation. (He’s long since learned the value of his smile in distracting from the battle axe and other weaponry he carries.) “Easy, guys; I’m just here for a bit of information,” he says. An innocent tilt of his head. “Heard there was a dragon in these parts. Anyone I can talk to, to learn more?”

The bearded salt-and-pepper man relaxes before his companions, nods at the tavern just behind before tilting his head up. “Ye can talk ta me. I’m Mayor Borjondy. Run the pub jus’ behind ye. Ye from the capital, lad?” he asks. “Come ta slay it fer us?”

“That’s right!” His grin doesn’t falter as he steps forth with an open hand. “Caspar von Bergliez,” he introduces; “part of the Spectrum Imperial Guard. This isn’t my first go-around; rest assured.”

Borjondy nods as he takes Caspar’s hand in his burly, weather-beaten one. “Aye, thought so. Ye sound like a city boy, though me ears tell me you come from the east.” He completes the handshake and then drops his hand, expression pensive. “Been here all me life, I ‘ave, save fer me travelin’ days. We’s a simple folk, spend ‘ar days huntin’ an’ minin’. Don’t wan’ any trouble, unda’stand, but it would seem that trouble’s foond us.”

“Killed me wife an’ brother, it did!” the youngest man interjects. “Woulda killed me too if I ‘ad’nt run!”

Weren’t things like this what the Interspecies Accord was meant to prevent? A moment’s anger shoots through him that a dragon could violate the Accord so callously, but Caspar forces himself to remain calm. “Saving others like them is exactly what I’m here for,” he says, reaching out towards the man’s shoulder by way of reassurance. But the (hopefully) soothing touch does little to soften his glare. “Sounds like you’ve seen the beast, then,” he observes. “What did it look like? Can you remember?”

His question only causes the man to shake harder. “B- Black…” he stammers. “An’ ‘uge! Got paws like oxen, an’ wings kin block the sun! Oh, my poor Greta…”

The grief in his face mirrors in Borjondy’s as he steps closer to calm him down. “It’s killed some a’ my men when they was out huntin’,” he explains; “even tracked ‘em back here an’ wrecked ‘eir homes. ‘twere a livelier place, once, but now all ‘at’s left are the old ones and babes, an’ whoever’s brave enough ta stay an’ protect ‘em. But—it’s not a Hevring beast; that much I kin tell ya fer sure.”

“Not a Hevring drake?” Caspar is vexed. “How do you know that? Aren’t they the only dragons living in these parts?”

“Aye, ye’d think so, but this one’s black as pitch, not green like they say the Hevrings are. Come from the northlands, it did, though me lads here say it’s holed up in the eastern moontens now.”

“Those fookin’ Hevrings…”

All eyes turn to the third villager who until this moment has not said a word.

Heedless of (or perhaps relishing in) the attention he has drawn, the interloper prattles on. “Some a’ the womenfolk say them Hevrings’ll come an’ save us from it, but it seems to me they value their own an’ their kin’s scaly hides more ‘an any ‘coexistence’ they blather on aboot in the capital. Council a’ Seven, me arse,” he mutters viciously. “I bet it’s a council a’ four with three dragon fookers instead.”

Caspar bites back his rising retort. How dare this man lump his father in with the likes of Vestra and Gerth? But arguing will get him nowhere, and there’s still more he needs to know. “Where can I find it?” he asks. “Any known weaknesses?”

“Most times the beast stays close to the moontens, but not the mines. Ye’ll prob’ly find it if ye travel nor’east a’ them, towards Faerghus. Make sure you git ‘im good for me, lad,” the middle villager blurts then, seizing Caspar’s arm with a sudden fervor. “Ain’t no way we kin rely on them scaly twats if this is the sorta shite they pull.”

Borjondy nods sagely. “Agreed.” Then he looks directly at Caspar. “Call me old all ya like, but I kint help but feel as if this is an omen of some sort. Keep yer wits aboot’cha, lad. Somethin’ tells me the Council could fracture over all’a this in the future.”

Fracture? Last he’d heard, there was no evidence of discontent between either human or dragon halves of the Council of Seven. Then again, things were always strange when dragons were involved, so the young huntsman forgoes comment and dips his head in an informal but appreciative bow. “Thanks, mayor,” he says. “I’ll have its head before long—you have my word.”

He would simply have to ask Gilead about all this later.

---

The village of Remire is unsettlingly quiet as he rides into town, and it does nothing for the mounting disquiet of his mind. Only the furtive peek of eyes from behind the tavern window alerts him to the presence of any living souls in the area; and even then, it disappears almost quick enough to be imagined. Perhaps they’re all terrified of the dragon living nearby? Pondering it does not make his odds seem any more favorable.

For all his bravado back in Daevin, he isn’t actually certain how he is going to kill the thing once he sees it, especially without any other huntsmen to back him up. Slaying wyverns is one thing; they are universally weaker and less clever; but dragons? Most successful prior accounts spoke of trickery, of outwitting rather than physically outmatching the beast, and Caspar has much more confidence in the strength of his axe arm than the cunning of his mind.

He frowns. Miring himself in worrisome thoughts borne of too little knowledge would do him no good. Best he simply get out there and search for its lair. Maybe there he could find some clues as to what its goal is, what it wants with the villagers when it never bothered them before. Maybe there’s something he can use against it there, some way to take it down.

(And if he should find the beast inside its lair?)

(He’ll just. Tackle that problem if and when it arises.)

With a flourish of his short cape, he exclaimed, “You pathetic heroes will never defeat me! I will-” Fire exploded through the bank doors revealing a new villain, who stood arrogantly in the settling dust, so cocksure of himself that he could defeat the four rookies and a D-list villain that stood inside.

The D-list villain rolled his eyes, it was a pathetic bid, an easy win for someone like that.

The heroes didn't move, looking between the current villain and the newcomer, “Excuse me,“ the current villain said, annoyed, “I am in the middle of something here, so if you wouldn't mind waiting your turn?”

The newcomer laughed rudely, “I think i'll be taking over now, it shouldn't be too hard with only a few useless wannabes and a, what are you? A magician?” He laughed again and the villain looked down at his black suit and touched his large brimmed hat with his beloved cane, more offended that he couldn't come up with a better insult than ‘magician’. Honestly, he got that at least three times a week, neither heroes nor villains could come up with anything more creative?

He stopped laughing abruptly and glared at the heroes who were still surrounding the D-list villain, having frozen in shock and fear. This is why I am here, the villain thought with a roll of his eyes and reached for the gun that was holstered at his waist. The heroes had failed to take notice of it and remove it from his person, he’ll have to teach them a lesson or two next time, once he’d dealt with this idiot for endangering his “students”.

“I think i’ll start wi-” The newcomer paused at the sight of a gun being pointed to his head, the D-lister’s cape flapped dramatically in the draft that the explosion had created and he laughed uproariously. Again. It was really starting to get on the villain’s nerves. This prick was like an obnoxious class clown that no one found funny And he kept on laughing at his own bad jokes. Irritating. “And what,” the clown said in between gasps, “are you going to do with that? Shoot me?” He laughed again and the villian shot.

The few people in the bank, covered their ears at the loud noise except for the villain, who was wearing earplugs.

Water rained down from above the laughing twit from where he shot the fire system, “You missed,” the newcomer taunted.

The villain holstered his gun and raised an eyebrow, “Iceman,” the hero in question looked at him, “You need a better name, now, powers, go,” Stunned, Iceman did what he was told and froze the dripping dolt where he stood. Finally, he stopped laughing, but was covered in frost and was held in place by the fact that his muscles were too cold to move.

Win-win.

“Metal-mover,” she looked at him, more aware now, than her counterparts. She used her power to grab some scrap metal that was lying on the floor and used it to wrap around the vil-sicle (he grimaced, glad he didn't say it outloud) to restrain him before he thawed out. “Metal,” she looked at him again confused at what more he could say, “your name is far too obvious,” she stared at him petulantly and crossed her arms. There should be an obligatory creative writing class for all aspiring heroes, honestly.

The villain moved closer to the downed dumbass with his customary exaggerated flair and leaning on his cane, he pressed it into the bastard’s shoulder. He felt a shink and heard groan as the hidden blade sunk into him, “Ta-da,” he said smugly. Pulling the blade out of the man, he pushed it back into the cane with the floor. Reaching for his breast pocket, he looked at the current occupants of the bank, “Don't be cocky. It is very annoying,” and pulled out his phone, taking a picture of the fallen fool. Pressing a few more buttons he returned it to his pocket and turned towards the heroes, one of which had their hand up. Confused and a little concerned, the villain gestured, “Yes?”

“Why did you help us?”

“I didn’t help you,” he defended, “I just didn't want anyone to mess with my carefully planned crime,” trying to get back to where they were before the rude interruption,he continued “As i was saying: you will nev-” another hero had her hand up and he sighed “What, what is it, what do you want?”

“How was it carefully planned if you were losing? Couldn't you have escaped?” she said and the others agreed with her.

The villain looked away in disbelief, “I was not losing. You just didn't -”

“Who were you texting?”

“What are you, children?” there was a general murmur of either an offended ‘i'm in college!’ and ‘yeah pretty much’.

He shook his head, unbelievable, the lot of them. I swear I'm going to have a word about that with someone, the age limit should be higher, he thought.

“Well technically, we beat him,” metal-mover shouted, “So are you going to surrender or are we going to have to beat you too?” A chorus of cheers came from the rookies who took up their battle stances and prepared with newfound confidence. He rolled his eyes at them and prepared for the battle.

Just then two men, wearing boiler suits, walked in through the hole in the wall. One picked up the frozen villain by his metal bar restraint and waited as the second pinned the other villain’s arm gently behind his back, “Hey! I am trying to commit a crime here, if you don't mind,” he fought half-heartedly against the cleaner as they repaired the hole with their own powers and dragged both villains out the newly fixed door, leaving the rookie heroes celebrating their success in his wake.

***

In an office one would expect the professionals to dress professionally, but the casual attire worn by the three officials of the hero headquarters were hardly out of place. The villain sat in front of them, repeatedly pressing the useless button he had installed on his cane in boredom, waiting for them to speak.

“Rex, did you have to stab the guy?”

“He’s a villain,” he replied, crossing his legs, “I’m a villain. Why are you complaining?”

“It just seems a little unnecessary. By our reports he was already down,” the one on the right answered, twisting the string of his hoodie between his fingers.

“Oh, like the unnecessary amount of times he laughed? If you were there you would have kicked him through the wall.” He said with a roll of his eyes. Ugh.

They laughed in agreement and luckily it was less obnoxious and far more friendly, “The rookies,” the middle one said with more seriousness, “Anyone with half a brain could figure out you’re not just a D-list villain that just happened to rob a bank near them-”

“Well technically I didn't do anything, soo,” he shrugged and grinned.

“But you still clearly instructed them on what to do.” she retorted.

“They listened, that's hardly my fault.”

The official sighed. She knew it wouldn't change his mind, “You are impossible to work with.”

“Thank you.”

“Anything else to report?” she asked, diverting the conversation to a more useful subject,

Rex sat up, now paying attention, “Ah, yes. This win they claimed, will make them confident, bordering on arrogance, seeing as they beat an A-list villain, even though they froze up and needed explicit instruction.” he said, ”So I was planning to have Marky take them down a few pegs, which will hopefully make them more cautious than if they just worked their way up with experience. You know. If they're smart. Which, I mean; Do they pick their own names or are they assigned?” he asked, innocently.

The three looked unimpressed.

Rex stood up and leant on his cane, “Well, if you need me: find someone else,” He turned and left out the double doors, his cape adding necessary drama to his exit.

***

Rex stood on a roof ledge shouting at the rookie heroes in triumph, ”You pathetic heroes will never defeat me! I will-” the bricks shook and knocked the villain off balance but he managed to regain it before he fell and looked at the newcomer. Intimidating or not, How many times are dumb people going to break the script?

“Excu-” He never finished. The new villain, using his powers, slammed him into a wall. peeling off, he fell to the floor as the audacity of this bitch hit him harder than bricks ever could, but he lay there unmoving and watched as his rookie heroes took up their battle stances, hands shaking, as the villain made his speech, “I am not here to play games,” he began, the sound grated on Rex’s ears and made him want to crawl out of his skin, he knew a villain should have an evil sounding voice, but this was just a crime against nature, “So i'll ask this only once: surrender.”

At least he’s not laughing.

By this time, the fastest of the professional heroes had turned up and were attempting to escort civilians and the grateful rookies out of the area. But the villain noticed. He pulled the ground from under their feet to the sounds of screams and crumbling buildings, and he laughed, a goddamn egotistical laugh. Rex promised himself that he would never laugh and he giggled at the ridiculousness. Ah shit.

Using the distraction the bigheaded bullhorn created, Rex left, making sure to grab his fallen hat on the way.

Heroes rarely worked together outside their chosen groups, it made it easier to learn how each other worked and cooperate. Unless they couldn't defeat the Big Bad, then they worked in herds. Unfortunately, this was one of those times. Many surrounded the supervillain and fought, the battle hardened, the experienced, the ones just trying to keep people alive, they all tried.

A lull in the battle created silence enough for a cough to be heard behind the supervillain, he turned, still standing on the ledge, to see a man leaning on a cane, his hat obscuring his face dramatically. The villain spoke in disbelief, “Can't you see im-”

“What? In the middle of something?” Rex asked innocently, “Well, i was here first, so if you wouldn't mind getting your fat arse off my roof, that would be appreciated,” the supervillain stepped towards him slowly, the attempt at ‘menacing’ clear but there was too much eyebrow and the head was tilted too far down for Rex to take him seriously, so he just waited, a smug smile on his face as the villain threatened him, ”you irritating gnat, i will tear you to pieces, i’ll -”

“What's your name by the way? Just thought I'd ask.”

The villain, caught off guard at the flippantness of this Theatrical Charlatan, deadpanned, “Dementor the destroyer, commander of darkness, maybe you've heard of me.”

Rex, being Rex, could do nothing else. He burst into fits of giggles until the supervillain ‘Dementor’ tore a chunk off of a building and threw it at Rex, which admittedly did not take longer than five seconds. Villains, they have such short tempers, especially the bad ones. A good villain, in his humble opinion, should be fun.

The dust and debris cleared and there was Rex, standing as he was before, except wholly unamused. ‘The Destroyer’ growled and tried to throw him from the roof, but he didn't move. Instead he raised an eyebrow, “Having some trouble?” he asked, his eyes flooded with purple, spilling onto his face.

Stunned, the ‘commander of darkness’ threw everything he had at this new threat, to no avail. Each attack just left him smiling smugly. The roof caved in, smoking, but it did not affect him. “Your power is no match for mine,” the supervillain shouted desperately, but he saw, they all saw, how the bricks break like snow, how the purple eyes grew bored, and how the villain, growing desperate enough to turn towards the few remaining heroes, made his mistake.

Rex walked forward twirling his cane, “Don’t touch my kids.”

***

“You’re fired.”

“No, wait, I can still-” Rex tried to respond, but he knew the effort would be useless. They saw. They all saw.

They looked at him, pitying and remorseful, “no,” she said softly, “You can retire. The benefits will let you live comfortably, not many Villains live long enough to retire. You have your strength to thank for that.”

Strength. yes, he had his strength to thank for this, he thought bitterly but he quickly shook off those feelings before they could settle and stood up.

He left.

He had nothing more to say.

***

Walking in town was a very different experience now that people had begun to take him seriously as a villain, some people crossed the road to the otherside (chickens), some walked faster, puffing their chest out as a ‘don't mess with me’ warning, not that it would help even if he did want to hurt them and others just blatantly turned around and walked in the other direction. Those he admired, they were smart, they actually had some common sense, though he missed how little people cared before. It was easier.

Now, walking down the road in a green hoodie with half his hair in a bun, using a cane is not the most threatening of things to be doing, but when four rookie heroes landed in front of him, he wished it was, “What do you want now?” he asked, stuffing his phone into his hoodie pocket.

“We, um, we wanted to say thanks for saving us from the Big Guy,” Iceman started after some deliberation.

“You're welcome,” he said and tried to take another step.

“Why though?” Metal-mover halted his attempt to ignore them.

“Pardon?” he asked, playing dumb.

“Why, or how, do you have so much power?” she clarified, “You could have taken over the world if you wanted to. You could have killed us,” she continued, “wow you could have killed us,” this realisation dawned on them and the four seemed to pause their minor interrogation to have a crisis over their own mortality.

Rex resigned himself to the fact that he was having this conversation.

“Not my thing,” he replied and kept moving, the heroes did not leave as he hoped but they did move out of his way and instead began following him, insistent on getting answers.

Despite the danger they were in, talking to the most powerful villain on record, they proceed to pester him.

“Then why do you pretend to be so pathetic and weak?” Tech-pirate asked, before she realised what she said and quickly snapped her mouth shut while the others quietly panicked. It was mildly funny to watch.

“Crime is fun. Petty crime is more so and it has a shorter sentence, so,” he clicked his tongue hoping they would be happy with the answer. They weren't. But he wasn't expecting much from four dumb kids who decided harrasing and insulting a supervillain was a good pastime.

“Why though? You could have hurt us when we tried to stop you.”

Rex stopped defeated and looked at them, they looked back, awkward and shy and in Tech’s case, bright red.

Dumb kids.

He turned and started walking again nonchalantly, “I’m a.. Training dummy, so to speak,“ He shrugged, “I make sure you lot don't get hurt. I make sure you don't cause too much damage or kill anyone, especially when you're inexperienced, because let me tell ya, the guilt and panic attacks are NOT worth it,” he laughed and kept walking, leaving the group behind looking like they had found the key to a damned safe. Unfortunately, they did, and they weren't about to keep it locked. He took out his phone and turned it on, ignoring rookies practically hanging off his shoulders wondering if they should press. Their curiosity was palpable.

Eventually, Tape, the last hero that hadn’t spoken, quietly asked, ”Did you…?

“Yes.”

They were quiet.

He knew they weren't going to leave him alone after this, or anyway, so, “I was young and dumb, like you, but smarter,” the heroes huffed at this but were used to the way the he spoke by now, he was a villain after all, “I was a hero in training-”

“Whoa, woh, what?” they protested, only silenced by the ever suffering gaze of the Villain that promised not to continue unless they shut up, “I was a hero in training,” he repeated, “New to hero work and there was a villain, right annoying bastard too, and tough. He was wrecking the place and I was the only hero there, just a kid mind you, didn't know what i was doing and could barely control my power, though it was nothing like it is these days,” he chuckled, ”Anyway, i panicked when he got too close aaaand I killed him. There isn't really much more to it than that,” the heroes walked with him in silence, thinking about this new information that he had delivered so lightly, wondering if this was the same act as the villain front, when he continued, “the worst part though was the congratulations,” confusion spread across four faces, “The villain was dead, yaaay!” he explained sarcastically, “Quit immediately, of course. Went to therapy and decided to do this. Pays well too.”

They were stunned, so they decided to change the subject to something more... not that, ”did you hurt your leg then too?”

Rex glanced down at his cane which he was still leaning on while he walked, “No, that was something else,” They waited, hoping he would elaborate but he didn't. They didn't need to know he was being stupid and messed with his broken ankle one too many times.

“You said you had kids…?” Iceman began. These dumbasses don't know when to quit. Then again, it was a defining feature among Heroes, stubbornness, stupidity. Persistence.

“Students,” he clarified, “You’re not the first I've ‘trained’, and until I'm retired, you won't be the last.”

The students in question took that as an opportunity to swell with overwhelming emotion and give him a very large, very uncomfortable group hug. He froze in place until they let go and they stifled their giggles at his reaction, “Don't do that,” Rex said. The heroes got a distinctly unheroic look on their faces and they stepped forward to give him another hug, “I said ‘dont do that’,” Rex repeated quickly, stepping back, “I am setting boundaries here ‘Do not hug me’,” the group backed up guiltily, obviously embarrassed that their first reaction was ‘to do the thing’, but what do you expect. They are kids after all. At least they did stop, which is more that can be said for some people.

“Sorry.”

“Sorry.”

“Won't happen again.”

“Our bad,” they said quietly.

“Nevermind,” Rex sighed, and kept walking, the rookies followed him like imprinted ducklings.

This is going to be a long day.

Star Wars Fanfic II

Rose looks so peaceful resting in the sleeping berth of the Millennium Falcon. She has been unconscious since the recent battle. Fin was greatful she was still alive. They come so far together. He gently squeezed her hand. Fin knew she was right. Sacrificing himself wouldn't have saved anyone. He had to keep fighting, and thanks to Rose, he was finally able to come to terms with what, or rather who, he was fighting for.

Fin was fighting for Rose. A souls, not much unlike his own, searching for their place in the galaxy and finding a home in the Resistance family because they didn't fit in anywhere else. He was fighting for Rey, his best friend, and the one person he knew he could trust, always. He was fighting for Poe, and with Poe. Fin couldn't imagine a life without him anymore, and lived to see that smile brightening everyday. If the Resistance was that important to Poe, it was also important to Fin. And he was fighting for those across the galaxy could not night fight for themselves. Having once been a part of the oppressing First Order himself, Fin refused to allow them to continue their senseless reign of terror.

He finally had a purpose in life beyond runnin sanitation in a Stormtrooper uniform. He was forever indebted to his friend for bringing this purpose to life. However, he was also haunted by the this simple fact. Fin cared dearly for Rose, though he knew his love for her was not the same as her love for him.

Rose nearly killed herself, stopping Fin's suicide run at the First Order attack formation. He was trying to stop the blast that would blow open the doors to the old rebel base, exposing what was left of the Resistance hiding there. She knew it wouldn't work. In the wreckage of their speeders, Rose confessed her love to Fin and kissed him. In that moment, thanks to Rose's words, Fin realized he wasn't alone anymore.

Fin reassured himself that Rose would be alright, and nodded to the medic as he got up and made his way toward the cockpit.

"I'm so happy you're ok!" Rey exclaimed, running up to Fin and throwing her arms around his neck.

He hugged her back saying, "Me too. I mean, I'm glad you're safe. And me. Or us, all of us. Uh, you know. Just glad everyone is fine."

"You haven't changed one bit."

Fin reached for Rey's hands and held them tightly in his.

"STOP HOLDING MY HANDS!"

Rey slapped Fin as hard as she could across the arm. Fin smiled, and they both burst out laughing as the came up behind Chewbacca and Poe at the helm of the Falcon.

"I can see why you won't shut up about her. I'm glad you stuck around though. I guess I owe you one for bailing me out again, pal." Poe patted Fin on the leg, though he kept his eyes on the controls. But then he turned his head to Rey. "And you too. Thanks for getting out asses out of there."

"No problem," Rey replied. She turned to address Fin. "But what does he mean, stick around? Where were you going?"

Fin searched for the right words for a response. He couldn't let Poe know he was originally going to bail and find Rey until Rose derailed his plans.

"Oh, well uh, I was going to find you, because you know, the Resistance was in trouble. I thought maybe you could help." Fin's tone started started to rise at the end of that statement. He wasn't a the best at lying. "But I knew you had things totally under control, so I decided to do what I could to beat the First Order. It was quite the adventure actually. Rose and I-"

"You never did say how you and Rose met," Poe cut Fin off. "She was in charge of guarding the escape pods. I would know. I assigned her there."

"Well, in, you see, uh," Fin scrambled to concoct at believable lie.

"You were going to abandon us and go after her," Poe thrust a finger in Rey's direction, "weren't you? I can't believe it. You were a deserter after all!"

"Really? We barely came away with our lives back there, which I helped make happen, by the way, sort of."

Poe rolled his eyes at Fin's retort.

Fin continued, "and now you want to accuse me of desertion? I stayed, I played my part. I risked my life on that mission! And even if I did go off to find Rey, which I didn't, it's not like I was leaving you all behind for good."

"And if Rose didn't find you? How do I know you would have come back? How do I know I can trust you? You switched sides once already. Maybe you're still one of them?"

"What? Are you crazy?" Fin tried to defend himself.

Rey interjected, "We're all here now. We're all on the same side. Fin, I'm glad you had my back. Thank you."

"See, someone here knows I'm not a traitor. Well, actually, I kinda am," Fin puffed up his chest and grinned. "Plasma made sure to point that out right before I kicked her shiny ass. Yeah, that's right." He was beaming with pride.

"Uh huh. Glad to hear it. Why don't you hurry along to tell someone else? You're good at that. Cherie, how much farther doe we have?"

Chewbacca growled out a response as Fin tired on his heel and stormed out of the cockpit.

"It wasn't like that you know!" He called back over his shoulder.

Chewbacca said something again.

"Yeah? And how many old married couples have you heard arguing?" Poe snapped back.

Giggling, Rey gave her own answer, "I think he's comparing you to Han and Leia."

Chewbacca nodded in agreement.

"Whatever."

Rey took one of the passenger seats and crossed her arms stubbornly.

"You don't have to be so mean to him. He said he was t abandoning the Resistance. Why take it so personally? Unless, Cherie is on to something."

"It's nothing, obviously." Poe swiveled his chair nervously from side to side.

"It can't be nothing for you to be so upset. Go talk to Fin," Rey suggested, nodding in the direction Find left.

"Don't worry about it. Really," Poe protested.

Rey jumped up and pushed Poe from his chair as she slid in to take his place.

"GO," she demanded.

Poe stumbled to his feet and made his way back into the main cabin. His eyes searched the crowd of Resistance fighters. After a few moments, he gave up, and dropped his gaze. Poe wandered through the crowded cabin and found a seat, alone.

"I'm sorry," a voice said softly behind Poe. "But I wasn't running from you, for what it's worth."

Poe reached out a hand, searching for for one belong to tthebowner of the voice.

"I was scared. I froze up, just like my first battle with the First Order on Jakku. So I did what I do best, I ran."

Fin grabbed Poe's outstretched hand and turned him around. Poe couldn't bring himself to look up. He was right Fin to an extent, but for the wrong reasons. I should have let him go, Poe thought to himself. But then where would we be?

"I can't excuse myself for running, but I'm here now," Fin pleaded, "and I promise, im not going anywhere this time. I get it know. You fight for the people you care about." Fin placed a finger under Poe's chin to tilt his head up, and locked eyes with him. "I have to fight for the people I love."

Poe stood up and forcefully grabbed Fin by the lapel of the First Order uniform he was still wearing after infiltrating and enemy ship.

"Where's my jacket?" He snarls.

"I think I left it on the dreadnaught. I, I'm sorry," Fin hung his hair in remorse. He wished there was some way to back and get the jacket. He never thought he would be caught, which was rather naive now that he thought about it.

"Well," Poe replied, "I'm just going to need a new a one. Again." He takes off his own jacket and drapes it over Fin's shoulders. "This will have to do until I can get you out of that God aweful monkey suit."

Poe smirks and looks Fin over.

"Stop that," Fin protests.

"Stop what?" Poe asks innocently, flashing the most dashing smile he can muster.

"THAT! Ugh! Stop smiling at me. With your perfect hair, and your pretty, you," Fin awkwardly blurts out.

"You really think I'm pretty?" Poe uestions, tapping Fin coyly on the shoulder while biting his own lip.

"Dude. Seriously. Stop. Stop being cute, and making me like you, and-"

"I'll stop when you stop," Poe growls before grabbing Fin by the face and pulling him in for a kiss.

.....

Author's note: This is basically a follow up to my first story. It picks up where The Last Jedi left off. I kind of had fun writing the first part, so this came out easily, so I had to share. Feel free to give me feedback if you like. Sorry if you hate it. It's my story, and I don't care!

who are these pretty people alex

GingAle - Today at 12:14 AM

dude's Josiah, gal is Olivia, aka Olive!

its a long road until they get together but

when/if they do, there will be sappy junk like

"my little olive" n shit bc anything cheesy you can imagine happening in an old timey / worn down sea-side town?

theyd do it

and will do it

but the idea came from History of Violence by Jason Webely (gr8 song, comes from "100 years ago tomorrow" abt a real historical event its p dark but rlly neat imo)

https://jasonwebley.bandcamp.com/track/a-history-of-violence

that song

n so far, josiah is a tired boy working odd jobs on and off various ships, never leaving the port on them but just doin stuff like matience / cleaning / loading and/or unloading the ship's cargo / etc

other odd jobs are usually tranporting stuff throughout the town for various markets n such, like hauling bags of flour from a ship to the local baker for example, stuff like that

kappital - Today at 12:19 AM

ooOOOOO

that's really cool!! and they're both really cute 80

GingAle - Today at 12:20 AM

n its a really worn down sea-side town almost built in a boardwalk sort of way where you could literally go to the edge of town and hop down the side of the small cliff-like area (which is barely 6 feet high at most prolly) and land in the long stretch of the beach area n watch the waves n shit, which he does in his (rare) free time

thaN K :Dc

only uh

thing

being

hes lowkey traumatized

ok more highkey

kappital - Today at 12:21 AM

FUCK

GingAle - Today at 12:21 AM

highkey traumatized bc, at least as far as im thinkin rn, if shit goes down with battles n what not, its kind of a "all hands on deck" (no pun intended) situation for the town

where any man 12 and over will basically be pulled into it one way or another while the wives n children try to care for eachother and the wounded

which, in itself is already kinda fucked right

WELL

at 17, he was one of these guys pulled into battle for whatever was happening

but you're never told much

just

get out and fight, protect your own and the town, yadda yadda

so he was basically handed a gun and told go

so go he did and he

never really handled a gun before that

and didnt want to be part of it

but somehow found himself towards the front of it all aaaand

kinda

shot a dude on a ship of the ones supposedly invading the town to start shit or w/e

and watched him fall foward and off the ship into the water n hes always haunted by that day

n if it wasnt enough

kappital - Today at 12:24 AM

:c

GingAle - Today at 12:24 AM

it was speculated afterwards that it mayve not even been an attack

it mayve been a misunderstood trade ship or w/e

kappital - Today at 12:25 AM

god dammit

GingAle - Today at 12:25 AM

so he may have just been shoved into a battle of innocent people and he himself took at least one of those lives

so thats haunting his ass atm

and on top of THAT

he lives with his grandfather whos a p cold / quiet person, but will often praise him for what he did that day

which only fucks with him more bc its like "why would u praise me for killing a possibly-innocent person when i never wanted to be in that mess in the first place" n the grandfather shrugs it off bc hes one of those people thats a die hard believer in "War Is The Only Language Left To Speak" and "Protect Your Own At All Costs" n shit so thats fun

buT rn hes just

cargo boy, odd jobs here n there

and oblivious to olivia's crush on him

which is where she comes in

watching this dude carry like 4 bags of flour at once across his shoulders n its like that moment where they look intense and u see the sweat dripping off their face and everythings in slow motion as she sees him n its like

shes seeing Glowing Halo Of God Shining Upon This Boy Whos Probably An Angel Himself

while the most hes seeing a nap in the near future

is a *

sO YEAH she sees him around often being it a small "everyone is everyones neighbor" kinda town and flustered every time

flusters*

kappital - Today at 12:30 AM

shes head over heels for traumatized buss boy

GingAle - Today at 12:30 AM

YEAH HONESTLY

shes the kind of flustered where if theres a flower cart at the local market or somethin and she sees him

she just

not-so-causally-yet-tries-to-not-look-so-suspicious-ly hauls ass to hide behind the large display of flowers

like u wouldnt notice

bc she just

daintily walks over there a lil faster than her normal pace

but if u saw her face directly u would see her Suffering(tm)

like that red faced "oh fuck oh no oh no oh shit fuck fUCK SHIT FUCK FUCK --"

kinda look as shes internally panicking in hoping he doesnt see her staring

bc even behind the flowers

shell glance over

and be staring

kappital - Today at 12:33 AM

shes relatable

GingAle - Today at 12:33 AM

;Dc

kappital - Today at 12:33 AM

I like her

GingAle - Today at 12:33 AM

gOOD

shes overall just a gal trying to survive

both in the sense of day to day life

and also trying to not have a stroke every time she sees him

kappital - Today at 12:35 AM

olivia please

GingAle - Today at 12:36 AM

like legit there have been times where the weather gets hot and hes been working hard so you'll see like, most of his shirt buttons undone to where it shows like most of his torso as hes got this angry-but-in-a-hot-way kinda expression going as hes basically showing off his strength by carrying whatever it is that day on his shoulders like usual

n she just

becomes suddenly!!!! super fucking interested in her bible!!!!

but oh no!!! she forgot her glasses that she doesnt have bc she doesnt actually need them so shes gotta!!! bring that thing up realllly close to read it!!!

totally not hiding her entire face or anything!!!!!

kappital - Today at 12:37 AM

BIBLE

IM CRYING OH NO

oLIVIA

GingAle - Today at 12:38 AM

she carries one around w/ her bc even tho shes not super religious she grew up in a religious family so shes like

casually-religious

buT OH MAN ON THOSE DAYS

SHE JUST

RLLY GETS THE URGE TO RE-READ THE ENTIRE FUCKING THING COVER TO COVER IN THE MIDDLE OF THE MARKET PLACE

PRAISE JESUS AMEN HALLELUJAH

TOTALLY NOT PRAISIN JESUS FOR THAT TONED FRAME OF HIS NOOO NEVERRRRR

honestly shed be the kind of person ud see whos like

she sees him doing something especially attrative to her

and she just

reflexivly does the cross motion across her chest bc god help her

literall y

kappital - Today at 12:41 AM

DUDE FUCKIGN

aw I wanna write for them that's really cute

GingAle - Today at 12:41 AM

8Dc !!!

im glaD U LIKE EM AAA

kappital - Today at 12:42 AM

that sucks dude what if she's like

buying seeds for a garden or something and she's about to step out the shop and dude comes in with bags of dirt over his shoulders

but because she's at the door he steps back and holds it with his foot cause shes a lady

like dude she wouldnt be able to breathe dude she would die alex

GingAle - Today at 12:44 AM

YE AH

like shed

no joke

if she had a lot to carry or w/e and she ran into him n he was like "hey do you need help with that seed miss" shed literally just be like

"oh hun u could plant ur seed in my garden at any time"

"what was th--"

"HAHAIGOTTAGOBYE"

kappital - Today at 12:45 AM

shes gonna burn in hell this is BAD

GingAle - Today at 12:46 AM

PRETTY MUC H

if her fam knew like

they arent super strict or anything

but theyre more religious than her

and so if they knew

itd be like

"honey i love you but keep this up and we'll run out of holy water for the next 2 months in under a week from nearly drowning u in it"

like they wouldnt do anything sevear but itD BE

RLLY AWKWARD

n sometHIN WOULD HAPPEN

kappital - Today at 12:47 AM

IM CRYING

GingAle - Today at 12:47 AM

like idk "ur grounded from going to the market for 2 weeks young lady" type stuff

kappital - Today at 12:48 AM

that's not gonna stop the love demon, cupid,

GingAle - Today at 12:48 AM

YEA H

if he ever spoke to her for longer than like, "i just bumped in to you hi whats up" kinda talk, she would probably die

hes not like

josh / emitt oblivious

shes just rlly good at hiding it most of the time

so eventually he prolly catches on like "?? does she??? like me??? wh--" but doesnt act on it

but if they talk n she says "i like you. a lot. like, like-like you."

hed just be like

"i noticed, yeah"

and you would never see a more priceless "O H F U C K" look on her in your entire fucking life

kappital - Today at 12:56 AM

I noticed yeah

you

you fuck don't say that

GingAle - Today at 12:57 AM

wELL

hes rarely interacted with girls s o

hes got not much else under his belt besides blunt honesty and manners

kappital - Today at 12:59 AM

time to get experience fuckhead

GingAle - Today at 1:00 AM

YEA H

kappital - Today at 1:02 AM

what does he do though does he mercy kill her or

GingAle - Today at 1:02 AM

which part :)c ?

kappital - Today at 1:04 AM

after the

confess

GingAle - Today at 1:04 AM

she runs

shes gone

shes "HAHA SO I JUST FORGOT MY MOM WANTED ME HOME BY--WHAT TIME IS IT?? OH JEEZ IM ALREADY LATE HAHA BYE "

she runs

no grave

grace

no dainty "if i act chill he wont notice"

she fucking bolts

kappital - Today at 1:05 AM

ME

I LOVE HER

GingAle - Today at 1:06 AM

high tails it back to her house, hides in her room, doesnt even take off her bonet or anything as she curls up in bed with a pillow to her face, basically screaming

GO OD

i figurred she might be a tad relateable ;D

but yA shes just

yelling, muffled by her pillow

kappital - Today at 1:07 AM

this poor baby

GingAle - Today at 1:07 AM

n josiahs just like

"?? what just??"

"????????????????????????"

kappital - Today at 1:08 AM

jos you fuck

GingAle - Today at 1:09 AM

IKR

he knows shes embaressed but it hasnt like

sunk in yet

like he knows she gets flustered around him n shit

but it really hasnt like

fully hit him on how in love she is with him

until later when they meet up again prolly but like

at that moment he just doesNT KNOW HOW TO REACT

they dont exactly give u "What To Do If A Girl Confesses Her Liking Of You And Then Immideatly Hauls Ass In The Opposite Direction" pamplets at the drug store or anything

kappital - Today at 1:11 AM

that is true

you gotta wing it

GingAle - Today at 1:14 AM

yAH

n he kinda

sucks at that

but they figure it out eventually :)

prolly meet up after he chases down her bonnet or somethin from it flyin off as she was tryina re-tie it or somethin just as cheesy n when he comes back with it they share a few moments where it clicks like

"aw fuck he really does care for me"

"oh my god im actually in love with her o h n o"

etc

n they actually chat for a bit n suRPRISE she doesnt run away this time bc they met up a few times before already

but shes flustered still n her hands are fumbling so he offers to help tie it for her n he does

granted, kinda looks like shit bc he doesnt know how to do the Exact(tm) method for tying it to look nice

but its still a bow

so after a bit from there, they eventually part ways

and when she walks in to her house her moms prolly like "?? honey why is ur bow so sloppy what did you do" n olive's just like "I Love It"

he eventually figures out how to fucking do it right once they actually start dating, but it def takes a few tries :,)

n thats abt all i got rn i thin K

so ya thats them :,y

kappital - Today at 1:26 AM

that's so fucking cute

theyre so

DORKS

dorks

GingAle - Today at 1:26 AM

;D

kappital - Today at 1:26 AM

theyre losers I love them

GingAle - Today at 1:27 AM

im glaD ;*

Apr 26 Blurr’s Horror Stream - V For Vendetta

Prowl didn’t like the movie very much. He thinks it would have been better off if the society was left with the corrupt government and V was shot at the start. Better corruption than anarchy.

Welcome to the 'speedxstealer' room. The chat room has been cleared by the moderator. FakeProwl: *prowl is here early and WAITING on soundwave's couch* Neddles: *Soundwave -thought- he was going to be his usual early self, but apparently someone has beaten him to it. Intrigued and just a (really big) smidge delighted to see this, beelines for his seat.* Neddles: *A number of deployers come in after him, dancing to the music, and scatter.* Neddles: *...Soundwave might be a little suspicious about the song choice, though.* B l u r r: / dragging a cart in behind him on wheels. Grumbling and tugging it to his couch. / Neddles: *Time to assist! Frenzy darts over to the cart and gets pushing from the opposite end.* B l u r r: / flicks finials/ Hn..? Oh, hey. /slides the cart up, with help, to the side of the couch / Neddles: \\WHATCHA GOT THIS TIME?\\ B l u r r: Weapon systems. Neddles: \\FRAG YEAH! MY KINDA CART. WHAT FOR?\\ B l u r r: New upgrades. Possibly. Whirl: *trots in, pausing in the doorway with his head tilted quizzically* Neddles: \\WHIRL! WEAPONS!\\ Points at the cart. Neddles: \\WHATCHA UPGRADIN'? YOU GONNA DO IT HERE?\\ Whirl: That's an unusual pick for--what? *perks up immediately and finishes entering* B l u r r: I might not do it right  here. It's a thought process. B l u r r: / lifts up a turret and looks it over. Hums / B l u r r: (( i almost wrote turtle. )) Whirl: You're tooling up, Teach? *draws up to the cart and looks between it and Blurr* Whirl: ((pdkfd__ Whirl: ((The Battle Turtle)) B l u r r: (( yes good )) B l u r r: Maybe... it's a thought process. Tarantulas: *Tarantulas is summoned by talk of weapons - zoop, down from the ceiling on a line, tiny spide on blurr's shoulder* B l u r r: / reaches a claw up to pat pat the spide / Whirl: *pauses, huffing, and zoops his helm up* ...Tarantulas? Whirl: *that big ole eye is thrust right up on the spide* Tarantulas: *is patted! will stare back at the eye* Yyyyes? Whirl: What the hell. I had no idea you got that SMALL. Tarantulas: I thought I - haven't I told you? Neddles: \\THE SPIDER? WHERE? I DON'T SEE HIM.\\ Neddles: *Frenzy hops about looking* B l u r r: / sets turret down and pulls up part of a missile launcher / Hnnh.... broken. /tosses it back inside / Neddles: Immediately redistracted. \\DON'T GOT REPAIR PARTS?\\ Whirl: If... you had I'd forgotten. Whirl: *shrugs; he doesn't seem alarmed to see Tarantulas. Mostly just surprised* Whirl: Teach! Don't--GIVE ME that. B l u r r: I do... but these aren't MY parts. Whirl: Here, set aside your broken weapons. I can work on them. B l u r r: No, it's mine. I stole it myself. /huff / Whirl: You got a table or something? B l u r r: / he's joking of course / FakeProwl: *oh, is tarantulas over there?* Tarantulas: *jumps off blurr, size up, transform, right in time for prowl to see! yiss* FakeProwl: *of course. of course he's with Blurr. Prowl is beginning to learn that in any given room Tarantulas immediately makes a beeline for the worst person there.* B l u r r: I don't have a table right here right now. B l u r r: / sets missile launcher aside for Whirl / FakeProwl: *Smokescreen. Blurr. Black Shadow. Next he's going to be having dinner parties with Tarn.* Whirl: Then I'll sit on the floor. Pass me 'em. Tarantulas: *worst, u mean the BEST* B l u r r: / excuse. He can be invited to our cannibal dinners / Neddles: *Soundwave nods to Tarantulas. And he'd hope there were no dinner parties with Tarn. He'd be in serious trouble then.* Whirl: *he Tarantulas: Make a pile of whatever none of you want, I'd be more than glad to snag some scraps ~ Whirl: 's gonna plop his *** right there on the ground with no dignity whatsoever, turning the missile launcher over and over*Is this from that universe we went to? Whirl: Where your main squeeze is from? B l u r r: I'm willing to share once I'm done seeing what I need. B l u r r: Main /what/ ? B l u r r: [[ lemme know when youre all ready ]] Neddles: \\SQUEEZE. YER HOT BOT.\\ B l u r r: Er... Neddles: ((ready whenever!)) B l u r r: / see, he has two now. Which one do u mean / Whirl: ((I am!)) Whirl: Roadbuster. Is this from his dimension? Neddles: *Well, if everyone else is going to be distracted, Soundwave's going to take advantage of that and get even more settled than he already was.* Tarantulas: *tara's face is a ??? but he knows he'll never keep up with blurr* B l u r r: Oh, yes. Tarantulas: *HUGE !!!!! FACE* B l u r r: / looks at Tarantulas. Do u wanna sit on the couch with? / Tarantulas: *good thing no one can see it* FakeProwl: ((ready!)) B l u r r: I'm thinking of possibly installing some weapons... well. /He/ was thinking it. Tarantulas: (( reddi whip FakeProwl: *he's gonna. quietly. hot spot his holomatter avatar through whirl* FakeProwl: *this time he remembers to ping a permission request. ... 2 seconds after he already did it.* Whirl: That's what I figured. Looked like it. *still turning it over and over--* HEY. FakeProwl: Sorry, sorry. Whirl: *swivels his helm and fixes him with a slit-eyed stare* Whirl: You forgot, didn't you. FakeProwl: ... I remembered after I did it. Whirl: Same diff. *waves a claw* It's fine. FakeProwl: This is an improvement. I'm improving. Tarantulas: *alright, probably best to just listen to blurr and hear what the roadbuster business is. but no way in heck is tarantulas getting anywhere near touching distance of a telepath rn* Whirl: *and back to the rocket launcher* I've got my cleaning kits on me, but I dunno if the tools in them will elp me with these. You got any for this kinda weaponry? Neddles: *Poor Tarantulas. Everywhere in this room is touching distance of this particular telepath.* B l u r r: Uh... /fishes around in the cart and holds up a kit / FakeProwl: *clearly tarantulas is avoiding him. why is tarantulas avoiding him. what did prowl do. or fail to do.* Neddles: *But he'll refrain.* B l u r r: / Blurr is not by soundwave! / B l u r r: / u can sit by this fool / Tarantulas: *he'll settle on the opposite side of prowl shhhh just have him as a buffer btwn* Neddles: *Well, if nobody else is taking the spot by Blurr, Frenzy will.* FakeProwl: *oh, is he coming over?* Whirl: Excellent! *takes it and sets it on the floor by him* And, I mean, forgetting isn't so bad; everyone does. B l u r r: / glances at Frenzy and smirks a bit / Neddles: \\GUNPOWDER PLOT. I'M ALREADY FOR THIS ONE.\\ Neddles: *But he's going to keep peeking at what Blurr's picking through.* B l u r r: Most of this weaponry is from their junk pile... B l u r r: But, he /insisted/ . Whirl: That's a damn fine gift, Teach. He's a keeper. B l u r r: ... Oh, stop. /mumbles/ Whirl: *he's being utterly sincere this time; not even teasing* B l u r r: / flustered. Twitching claws. / Whirl: *he DOES shoot a sly look to Blurr, but that's as far as he gets this time* Tarantulas: *sitting on floor near prowl now, yis, nodding to soundwave and nudging prowl hello* Neddles: [[He already dislikes the television figure.]] B l u r r: / pulls up another set of turrets / FakeProwl: ((in the first five minutes the VILLAIN of the movie is ranting about Muslims and immigrants and homosexuality. how did the alt-right fuckboys latch onto V as one of their icons lmao)) B l u r r: / twitches finials . Oooh knives / Whirl: *after staring at this thing for, like, ten minutes, Whirl finally sets it down, extrudes his fine manipulators, and begins to methodically disassemble the broken launcher* B l u r r: / his favorite / Whirl: ((IKR)) Neddles: *Rumble scootches forward. Another good fighter who's a good speaker, and therefore, probably a good writer?* B l u r r: [[ there's a guy in my class doing this monologue and im like lmao so many v sounds ]] FakeProwl: *prowl hates how he speaks* Neddles: *Soundwave tilts his helm to one side.* B l u r r: K-KYAHAHAHA!! /wiggles claws / Neddles: [[...Well.]] FakeProwl: *trying to figure out who the bad guy is supposed to be* FakeProwl: *the dude in the mask: on the one hand, he saved the viewpoint character; on the other hand, he blew up a government building. and his speech is annoying.* FakeProwl: *thhhhinks he's on the government's side.* B l u r r: [ lemme know if / when it drops ]] Whirl: *glances up* You got another one of these? Same or similar model? Whirl: I can probably get one workign with the parts from two. B l u r r: Uh... Hn. /fishing through the cart. Holds one out / This is another part of one. Whirl: *plucks it up and sets it aside* Thanks. B l u r r: Mhm... Whirl: *and goes right back to the disassembly; he's dividing his attention between the launcher and the movie* B l u r r: / looking over a turret/ I wonder why he'd want me to even consider these. B l u r r: I absorb shots, I'm not the one shooting Whirl: Because turrets kick ***. Whirl: You should give it a shot. Shooting things is a laugh and a half, Teach. B l u r r: I'm not really a fan... FakeProwl: *yes. definitely against the man with the bombs.* B l u r r: / he's all for rooting for V / Whirl: nICE. Whirl: ((whop)) Neddles: [[Clever, clever.]] Whirl: Ha! Neddles: ((oh my god i just noticed i never changed my name back)) Whirl: ((OMG)) ItsyBitsySpyers: ((*coughs into appropriate name*)) FakeProwl: *he's just a Megatron with a fancy accent. A terrorist and a traitor who wants to destabilize the nation, and who will happily kill innocents and assassinate leaders to do it.* B l u r r: K-Kyehehehheh! B l u r r: Look at him! Such a skill with blades, it almost rivals mine. ItsyBitsySpyers: *Will reserve his judgment until he learns more about the society.* Whirl: *These guys remind Whirl of the Functionist, and he is not, regrettably, above killing innocent people in the face of revenge* FakeProwl: *and now he's killing cops.* Whirl: *or letting them get caught in the crossfire when it comes to taking out his enemies* Whirl: *and now he has a myriad of turret parts splayed out neatly in front of him; he gets to work on the second* FakeProwl: *leans on soundwave. quietly takes hand.* ItsyBitsySpyers: [[...Forbidden works.]] Tarantulas: *wait, when did those parts get all over the floor and where did those deedly boppers come from* Tarantulas: *someone was hella distracted apparently* ItsyBitsySpyers: *Soundwave curls his fingers tight and leans in.* B l u r r: /vents and sets the turret aside / ItsyBitsySpyers: [[He remembers hearing of so many confiscated pieces.]] ItsyBitsySpyers: *Buzzsaw makes an angry noise from somewhere above.* B l u r r: I would pay a lot of money for pieces of art, honestly. ItsyBitsySpyers: \\...YEAH? HOW MUCH?\\ B l u r r: Depends on the art. Whirl: *Whirl's already started methodically disassembling another, so if Taratulas cares to look, he'll see the whole process* Tarantulas: *he's definitely leaning over a bit to watch, yep* ItsyBitsySpyers: *Soundwave wonders if this human will be wearing his mask for the entire movie, and when he first started.* ItsyBitsySpyers: *Buzzsaw floats down toward Blurr.* ItsyBitsySpyers: }}What kind?{{ B l u r r: / flicks finials and glances up / Hn? B l u r r: Well... hnh. I would like a statue of some sort. ItsyBitsySpyers: }}A personal representation?{{ B l u r r: No no... not of me. B l u r r: Of someone... else. ItsyBitsySpyers: }}Who might -that- be, if I may inquire?{{ B l u r r: [[ lmao me, tbh. ] B l u r r: [[ i feel like I tell people that all the time when they ask who i am ]] B l u r r: ... /mumbles/ Optimus Prime of Tyran? Whirl: *HE'S CLOSE ENOUGH TO HEAR THAT* ItsyBitsySpyers: }}Ah, a glorification piece.{{ Whirl: *pauses to glance up with another sly look* B l u r r: / he's adorable! Like a child, this murderer . / B l u r r: Yes, one of those /mumbling / ItsyBitsySpyers: }}Then I, Buzzsaw, offer my considerable artistic services.{{ B l u r r: Ah? Whirl: Can you make the statue animatronic? You know, able to, I don't know... lift its foot? Stomp? RedWhiteScreamer: *Sneering at everyone and everything before taking a seat* B l u r r: .. Stop. RedWhiteScreamer: (Hi :) ) B l u r r: [ hey! ] ItsyBitsySpyers: }}Can I - newspark's play!{{ Whirl: (( o7 )) RedWhiteScreamer: (Got the Matrix on TV also. lol Multi tasking like a pro) B l u r r: I don't want it to step on me. Whirl: *snickers, but does stop, and returns to his work disassembling the turret* This one looks salvageable, Teach. B l u r r: Ah? RedWhiteScreamer: Hm, Blurr could use a mask like that... Whirl: Yep. Give me another... fifteen? Twenty minutes? B l u r r: You could use a knife in the face. FakeProwl: *he talks like a Decepticon* ItsyBitsySpyers: }}If you are truly interested, send me the details and your offer. I will consider it.{{ B l u r r: ... /nods helm/ I'd be glad to. ItsyBitsySpyers: *Floats up to his usual space and resumes watching the movie.* Whirl: How would he show off his teeth if he got a mask like that? RedWhiteScreamer: I'd say so could you, but you've already got several loged in there. B l u r r: Those are my teeth, you twit. RedWhiteScreamer: Teeth, knife, aft, all looks the same on you B l u r r: Oh for pit sake. Whirl: He's got great teeth. RedWhiteScreamer: (much love for these two) B l u r r: Thank you, Whirl. Whirl: *nods; he meant it* RedWhiteScreamer: Coming from a faceless wonder, it's not saying much. B l u r r: / snarls and throws a piece of metal at Starscream / Whirl: Pfft--*glances up from his position on the floo r and swivels his helm over* And somehow, even without a face, I'm not as butt-ugly as you. Whirl: And I'm DESIGNER UGLY. Whirl: I'm SCIENTIFICALLY-ENGINEERED ufly. Whirl: ...*ugly RedWhiteScreamer: *Snorts* Sure thing, whirlybird. Whirl: It's Whirl. ItsyBitsySpyers: *Slowly seeing more reasons why the masked human might choose to do what he is doing.* B l u r r: / pulls up a set of long rifles, but they're broken/ Hnh... Whirl: People can only call me "whirlybird" when I'm the literal bird. ...again. FakeProwl: *still doesn't sympathize.* FakeProwl: *a decepticon fighting a mediocre government and a decepticon fighting a bad government are both decepticons and both worse than whatever the government is up to* RedWhiteScreamer: *Boredly watches the weird humans and their cultures* What a garrish human cloaking. B l u r r: Honestly, I don't know how any of these will fit on my frame. B l u r r: / grumbling and fishing in the cart / RedWhiteScreamer: The pink frilly waist tarp? B l u r r: No, that's something YOU would wear. Whirl: THIS one, I wouldn't recommend. It needs an ammunitin feed and a power supply, and you need all the power you can get. Whirl: Besides, you're built for speed, so bulking you up wouldn't be the BEST idea. RedWhiteScreamer: Hm, no the pink would clash with my red paintwork. B l u r r: pink is a variation of red. Whirl: If you've got anything in there that's light and uses energy-based ammunition, throw it my way. Might work better. RedWhiteScreamer: I wouldn't expect YOU to understand colors. Whirl: And, we both know I'D look the best in that frilly getup. *waves a claw* B l u r r: / vents and looks at whirl / I don't know. I also don't know what exactly he wants to install. Whirl: *he's joking, of course* B l u r r: Why wouldn't I understand colors? I match perfectly. RedWhiteScreamer: *Turns a shade a green imagening Whirl in a frilly pink dress* Whirl: *shrugs; I don't know either. I'll look through your stuff, though, when I'm done here. RedWhiteScreamer: Aw, Blurr, no one has told you? RedWhiteScreamer: Each part of you is just a liiitle off shade. B l u r r: K-Kyehheheh. That's okay. B l u r r: It means that my purple just looks better with another purple. B l u r r: When you mix shades, it makes quite the melody. RedWhiteScreamer: Tch, can't take an insult can you? B l u r r: Oh, I can take them. When they're done the right way. RedWhiteScreamer: (Misterrr Anderson) ItsyBitsySpyers: *Is damned curious about what all this 'what you did' was.* B l u r r: / flickers optic. Aw... she sounded like she meant it, too / FakeProwl: *... her death was an oddly tender scene* ItsyBitsySpyers: [[He hopes we will see what is in that journal.]] FakeProwl: I think we are now. ItsyBitsySpyers: [[Good. Good.]] Whirl: *eyes the screen warily for a few moments; this could get uncomfortable. Well, he has weapons to distract him* RedWhiteScreamer: *Wings twitch* RedWhiteScreamer: Hm, I thought Earthlings weren't fire proof B l u r r: / pulls up a bundle of wires/ Well, this is pointless. /tosses it back in / Whirl: *and, done with the turret* Okay. Like I said, this won't work without a power supply, or ammunition feed. Mechanically, it's sound, but there's some parts of it that could do with replacing. Whirl: But, it works. *sets the repaired turret aside and starts to gather up all the leftover pieces* What else you got? B l u r r: A few guns. /pulls them out and vents/ B l u r r: What am I supposed to do with all of this? /vents again/ I don't understand why he wants me to look em oer B l u r r: *over Whirl: Because he's a WRECKER, and giving people guns is ROMANTIC. B l u r r: /rolls optic/  It's not my approache. Whirl: Even if YOU don't use them, they'll be valuable to your crew, after all. B l u r r: *approach FakeProwl: *so he survived a disease and he was brought in to help come up with a cure for it, and he blew up the facility? Because he was being experimented on—to SAVE THE POPULATION?* Whirl: Take it from someone who knows. This--*gestures to the cart* Is enough to make any self-respecting person who knows PROPER romance swoon. B l u r r: He didn't GIVE me these, I just salvaged them. B l u r r: He wants to install them on me, I think. Whirl: Oh, well, I thought you said he gave them to you. B l u r r: I mean, he and Topspin have them all over the place. Whirl: Anyway... if there's anything in there you think might be useful to YOU, lemme at it. I could use an actual challenge. *he wriggles all of his horrid deedly-boppers at once. It's a dreadful spectacle* B l u r r: / smirks a little and holds out an RPG looking weapon/ I could install this on my back. Or split it into two and slip them on my waist. B l u r r: The problem is my processor... ItsyBitsySpyers: *Soundwave's quite sure they were designing something. They talked about nuclear power - often part of modern human weaponry - and viruses 'leaving wealth intact'.* RedWhiteScreamer: *Watches the pile of scrap metal sitting beside the pile of broken guns.* Dressing up for a date,? B l u r r: No. I just got back from one. Whirl: OH? B l u r r: Er... Whirl: *SUDDENLY MORE INTERESTED IN BLURR THAN THE GUNS* ItsyBitsySpyers: [[The human female must leave there. Now.]] ItsyBitsySpyers: \\HOLD UP. YOU WAS ON A DATE?\\ Whirl: You went on a DATE? How was it? Where did you go? Did you blow anything up? FakeProwl: Indeed. B l u r r: / flicks finials./ Er, well... no. I mean, we went out on the town in disguise. Whirl: As vehicles? FakeProwl: He's in trouble. B l u r r: ... Ah. Well, sort of. B l u r r: We had to use holoforms for a moment... RedWhiteScreamer: *Watches Blurr now instead* Whirl: Ohh. Whirl: Hey, whatever floats your boat. B l u r r: It was... all right. Whirl: *sly look* Did you have a good time? How romantic is he? Dish, Teach! RedWhiteScreamer: Wait, I haven't heard much from- B l u r r: W-what? FakeProwl: He's going to die for this stunt. Whirl: How did it GO? Whirl: And--yep. Probably. This is why you don't get far unless you start blowing up buildings. Whirl: And tearing apart the oppressive government with your own claws. B l u r r: It went... smoothly. ItsyBitsySpyers: [[This is her second time seeing that.]] B l u r r: well. I mean... /shifts and looks at Whirl and Frenzy/ These humans tried to rob us. Whirl: Did you rough em up? RedWhiteScreamer: *Glances at the screen* Hm, guess we weren't theonly ones with a Senate. ItsyBitsySpyers: \\WHAT WAS THEY STEALIN'?\\ B l u r r: Oh, we did. K-Kyeheheheh. We worked pretty well as a team. Tarantulas: (( ooc i gotta run - assume tara left for an experiment, sry :c B l u r r: / twitches claws/ Whirl: ((seeya! Whirl: Nice. RedWhiteScreamer: (( Just imagined Taran succenly skittering on the clieling)) Whirl: That sounds like a damn good date, Teach. ItsyBitsySpyers: [[What is the purpose of removing the fur?]] Whirl: *gonna rifle around on the cart. He'd rather not watch this closely* FakeProwl: ... Maybe it's a hygiene thing? FakeProwl: They need special soap to wash their fur, and things get tangled in it. RedWhiteScreamer: And Prime wanted to save these things? Whirl: Anything in here energy-based, Teach? FakeProwl: If they cut off all the fur, that's less time and effort they have to spend showering her. ItsyBitsySpyers: *Nods. He sees.* B l u r r: I don't know... one of the guns might be. B l u r r: They weren't stealing anything- I guess they wanted money, I don't know Whirl: ((may I assume whirl finds one?)) B l u r r: But, we wiped them out. Er, well, he didn't let me kill them B l u r r: [[ yeh ]] Whirl: *nods* Sounds like he was being a good Autobot. RedWhiteScreamer: Egh, this is boring. *Stands and dusts himself off* See you never, BLurry. RedWhiteScreamer: ((ttyl bbs!)) B l u r r: [[ byyeee ]] Whirl: ((seeya!)) B l u r r: He was... he always is. Whirl: *at last he pulls out a promising-looking pistol* B l u r r: hmm? ItsyBitsySpyers: *...Ah.* Whirl: *he's turned the pitsol over again and again, and now he starts to disassemble it* B l u r r: Look useful? Whirl: Interesting story. Reminds me a little bit of the way things were. FakeProwl: *is trying to figure out why the Valerie human was taken away* Whirl: God, there's nothing I hate more than Functionists. Mm? *looks up* Dunno yet. Whirl: Still taking it apart. B l u r r: Pit, they remind me of the Decepticons. I mean, more or less. Our Decepticons are a pain. Really focused on keeping things the way they are. Whirl: Waot--so-- Whirl: *wait Whirl: HE did it? ItsyBitsySpyers: [[Of course.]] Whirl: ...I'd kill him. FakeProwl: ... HE'S been keeping her locked up?! And—and torturing her, and—?! B l u r r: So she wouldn't be afraid anymore. Whirl: I'm all for tearing down the government, but I'd still kill him. ItsyBitsySpyers: [[Where did you think the letter came from? She mentioned the same plants he leaves.]] FakeProwl: *darkest scowl* Whirl: Pfft, now he's trying to make HER feel guilty. B l u r r: Oh come on, human. Whirl: She's just traded one leash for another. Whirl: Grab one of his swords and kill him! B l u r r: /flicks claws / B l u r r: He makes sense to me. Whirl: Yeah, well, I dunno how many years YOU'VE spent in prison, Teach--*removes a piece a bit more violently than is perhaps necessary* Whirl: --but if I ahd the chance to get revenge for everything that was done to ME, I would. B l u r r: / shrugs / Whirl: And I wouldn't waste my sympathy on the fraggers that PUT me there, either. FakeProwl: Oh, come off it you self-absorbed scrap. You spent who-knows-how-long torturing her, you don't get to act like you did her a favor. B l u r r: Depends on what kind of prison you're expecting me to answer about. FakeProwl: He didn't liberate her, he indoctrinated her into a cult. Whirl: *shakes his head curtly* Forget I mentioned it. I don't wanna talk about it. ItsyBitsySpyers: *Absolutely not a fan of that method, but is interested in what will happen now.* Whirl: *snorts; she's not wrong* FakeProwl: *at least she can still recognize that he's a monster* B l u r r: / hahaaaaaaa. Flicks finials. Mumbling to each side / Whirl: Anyway. Unless you've got duplicate parts for this one, I don't think I can salvage this one. B l u r r: I can find some. B l u r r: I have to go back to see him soon anyway. Whirl: Got a datapad? Whirl: I can make a list. B l u r r: Mm... /shifts and holds out one / B l u r r: I'm not sure that he wants these weapons on me anytime soon. B l u r r: I just figured I should match. Whirl: *plucks it up and sets it aside; he gets back to work, tapping out occasional notes as he does* B l u r r: Or maybe he figured- I don't know. They seem uniform in nature. Whirl: Well, even so, might as well do something useful while I'm here. B l u r r: Mm.. ItsyBitsySpyers: *He thought so.* Whirl: *watching the screen raptly again; the deedlies are momentarily still* Whirl: *back to the gun* FakeProwl: *well, the government is probably bad—depending on how much V was lying—but still against V. has seen first hand what people like him lead to.* FakeProwl: *annnd here's the start of it* ItsyBitsySpyers: *So very familiar.* FakeProwl: *scowl darkens* Whirl: That was a well-done scene. Whirl: Good storytelling. FakeProwl: *squeezes Soundwave's hand* B l u r r: Mmhm. ItsyBitsySpyers: *Looks over, curious.* ItsyBitsySpyers: @Prowl: (txt): Bothered? FakeProwl: @Soundwave «Too familiar.» ItsyBitsySpyers: //...Not gonna lie, I was sorta expectin' a theme park to blow up or somethin'.// Whirl: Pfft. Did that happen in your dimension? *glances over* B l u r r: / snort / B l u r r: Oh for pit sake, this human is annoying. Kill it. B l u r r: He reminds me of the Quintessons, except angrier. Whirl: Oh, I'd love to see him dead. ItsyBitsySpyers: //One of the first things, yeah. Supposed to be a 'frag you' sign.// ItsyBitsySpyers: *Soundwave squeezes back, then, and nods.* Whirl: Pfft. Whirl: I dunno if they blew up any theme parks in our dimension... *glances back* Prowl? Anyone blow up a theme park in your timeline? FakeProwl: Everything blew up eventually. Whirl: So I gather. ItsyBitsySpyers: @Prowl: (txt) Soundwave wonders: This, only way similar problems ended? Whirl: *looks to Rumble* I didn't see any of it firsthand, of course. FakeProwl: @Soundwave «What? In riots and anarchy?» ItsyBitsySpyers: @Prowl: (txt): Affirmative. If other viable solution ever found. ItsyBitsySpyers: *Rumble's about to open his mouth and ask if Whirl was still in prison. Decides he probably shouldn't.* ItsyBitsySpyers: //Course.// Whirl: *he's 100% right, though* FakeProwl: @Soundwave «I don't call this a "viable solution."» Whirl: *returns to the gun* B l u r r: I remember when the Decepticons started blowing up buildings. ItsyBitsySpyers: @Prowl: (txt): ...What thought better? FakeProwl: @Soundwave «A bad government.» Whirl: Very satisfying. ItsyBitsySpyers: \\YEAH? WHAT HAPPENED FOR YOU GUYS?\\ Whirl: Now, kill the rest of them. B l u r r: Yes good! Slaughter them all! B l u r r: / looks at Frenzy/ who, me? ItsyBitsySpyers: \\YEAH, YOU.\\ ItsyBitsySpyers: @Prowl: (txt): ...Cannot agree. FakeProwl: @Soundwave «I don't expect you to.» B l u r r: Yes-!! Whirl: Nice. B l u r r: Look how well knives work. B l u r r: My favorite. ItsyBitsySpyers: *Small nod. For that much, at least, he is grateful.* B l u r r: / brilliant! / B l u r r: / looks back at Frenzy/ what, you mean during our war? It was a typical outbreak. I didn't join up until things were mostly established, though. ItsyBitsySpyers: \\HOW COME?\\ B l u r r: I was still lecturing in Polyhex when the sparks of war started. B l u r r: Optronix left and returned, renaming himself Optimus Prime. After that, war was inevitable. B l u r r: Megatron wouldn't give iup. B l u r r: *up FakeProwl: *... they didn't start shooting the civilians* Whirl: All right, this one's done. I've put it back together the best I can, and here's what you'll need to fix it. *sets the gun back on the cart and passes the datapad to Blurr* FakeProwl: *sags in relief* ItsyBitsySpyers: *Rubs thumb against back of hand.* ItsyBitsySpyers: \\OPTRONIX? WEIRD NAME.\\ B l u r r: / grabs the datapad/ Thanks. B l u r r: / vents/ He had an odd name before, but it became better. Whirl: *winces* ItsyBitsySpyers: [[...He does have to admit that was the most exciting rendition of that piece he's ever heard.]] Whirl: Interesting movie. B l u r r: More or less. Whirl: Heh. Whirl: Nice wallpaper. B l u r r: / rolls optic / ItsyBitsySpyers: *Frenzy wolf whistles.* Whirl: ((brb)) B l u r r: [[ mk ]] B l u r r: / huffs at Frenzy/ What. ItsyBitsySpyers: *Frenzy snickers and nudges Blurr.* B l u r r: / rolls optic/  What? ItsyBitsySpyers: \\YA ALWAYS USE YOUR SWEETSPARKS FOR SCREEN SAVIN'?\\ B l u r r: ... No. B l u r r: / sometimes / ItsyBitsySpyers: \\UH-HUH.\\ He just laughs some more and crosses his legs to get comfortable.* B l u r r: It's not ALWAYS someone important. ItsyBitsySpyers: @Prowl: (txt): Dissatisfying ending. Outcome wanted. Whirl: Not a bad shot of him. B l u r r: No, I suppose it's not... Whirl: *also obviously delighting in teasing Blurr* Did he send you this snapshot himself? B l u r r: No... Whirl: A little something to keep you warm on those long, cold, interstellar nights, eh? FakeProwl: @Soundwave «They ended it at the correct point. If it went any farther, it would have to show the riots, the mass murders, the battles, the famine, and the dead in the streets.» FakeProwl: @Soundwave «Instead it ended with soldiers deciding not to shoot civilians. That's the only happy ending it could have had.» B l u r r: It's just something I have. Whirl: *snickers, ferrying the last of the loose parts onto the cart* Anyway. You should let me work on the rest of this stuff. *leans back and slowly extends his legs, one by one, stretching* I know guns. B l u r r: It's not so much the guns that are worrisome, it's the way they will install into my frame. B l u r r: I won't be able to fold them into my armor. Whirl: Then, why get them installed at all? B l u r r: I think he wants me to. ItsyBitsySpyers: @Prowl: (txt): Prowl certain? Present humans not united? B l u r r: Now, I don't usually do what other people tell me, but they're a bigger crowd to work with. ItsyBitsySpyers: *He's not being contrary. This is a topic of some seriousness to him.* B l u r r: Those Tyran mechs are bigger than I am. Whirl: You gonna add them to your crew, or something? ItsyBitsySpyers: \\SO DON'T FOLD 'EM IN. HIS DEADLINESS HAD A BIG OL' CANNON RIGHT ON HIS FRAGGIN' ARM.\\ FakeProwl: @Soundwave «That's how revolutions end. There are still people in power. Those people won't decide to give up power just because two of them died.» FakeProwl: @Soundwave «Even if the former government has completely fallen—the fact that those "united" people agreed that the last government was bad doesn't mean they agree on what a good one looks like.» FakeProwl: @Soundwave «All we know for certain that they agree on is that violence is how to deal with the people who want to establish a government they don't want.» B l u r r: / snort at frenzy/ B l u r r: more like... the other way around ItsyBitsySpyers: *Mildly frustrated air puff.* Whirl: *tilts his head. Give him a second* Whirl: *hops up* You're gona roll with them for a while? FakeProwl: *concerned sideways glance. too far? should prowl shut up?* Whirl: Teach, may I make a music request, while I'm hangin out? B l u r r: ... Pardon? B l u r r: Roll with- wait, what? Whirl: A song. B l u r r: What for? Whirl: And I promise, this isn't me poking fun at you. It's just a song I like. B l u r r: It depends...? Whirl: *pings it* ItsyBitsySpyers: @Prowl: (txt) Cannot trust, accept failed government. Violent revolution end... yours, own Cybertron situation. Sincere desire: joint work effort succeeds, functional society produced.-- ItsyBitsySpyers: Other action option not known if failed. Whirl: No big deal if you can't. Anyway... what were we talking about. Oh, yeah--'Buster taking you on? Wrecker consultant or something? B l u r r: Uhm... /fiddling with claws / B l u r r: [[ lmao i totally forgot I like. OWN that song. ]] Whirl: *perks up* Thanks, Teach. B l u r r: Mm. Whirl: ((A GOOD SONG)) ItsyBitsySpyers: @Prowl: (txt): ...Population, society salvage: important. Also tiring. Age beyond age felt. B l u r r: [[ YES INDEEDY ]] B l u r r: / twisting claws together and cracking the joints/ Not exactly a consultant... Whirl: *tilts his head again; he's tapping his foot to the song* Whirl: *lightbulb, AT LONG LAST* Wait--d'you mean--did he pop the question? THE question? FakeProwl: @Soundwave «... Mm. Yes. It is important. But if things go wrong again—another revolution and another war aren't the way to salvage them. They're the way to end them.» Whirl: *ZOOP* Did he--did Roadbuster ask you to JOIN? ItsyBitsySpyers: \\HOLD UP. CAN HE DO THAT?\\ Whirl: If he's the leader, he can. B l u r r: / slight noise / Whirl: Well--that's the way it worked here, anyway. Whirl: *if Blurr doesn't dodge it he's gonna get whapped on the shoulder with a claw* Quit being coy, you walking skidplate! Spit it out! B l u r r: / flicks finials/ Ah... Whirl: *snorts and shoots a deadpan glance to Frenzy* One thing;s for sure, if he DID, he didn't recruit Blurr for his oratory skills. B l u r r: Oh, shut up! ItsyBitsySpyers: @Prowl:(txt): Affirmative. New war unwanted. Revolution thoughts - other planets, timelines. Not own, Prowl's. Already done. Rebuilding needed. Desired better pre-war solution recipient: others. B l u r r: / vents and faceplate is heated / B l u r r: He might have, in a round about way, asked me. Whirl: *WHAPS again* Lord, was that so hard? If you can't even SAY it, you wimp--! B l u r r: / scowls/ Whirl: *whaps YET AGAIN, HARDER, but this time there's enthusiasm behind it, and his optic curves into a gleeful curve* Congrats! Whirl: I mean, you'd BETTER accept. Being asked to join the Wreckers is--it's the best, mech. Whirl: You won't regret it. FakeProwl: @Soundwave «We should be looking for a best-case-scenario Cybertron, I suppose.» B l u r r: / grumbles/ B l u r r: It's a lot more than that. Whirl: How so? B l u r r: They defend the humans. Whirl: And...? B l u r r: I would rather kill them. FakeProwl: @Soundwave «... Hm. A year ago, Pipes told me he was looking for a universe that was better off than ours.» Whirl: I'm assuming they're not going to defend the specific humans that attacked Autobots on the planet. ItsyBitsySpyers: @Prowl: (txt): Assurance: Soundwave looking all years since defection. None seen. Until located, post-war salvage best attempt. B l u r r: No, but I dislike humans all the same. Whirl: And please, you're gonna let a little hang-up like that stop you? Pathetic. FakeProwl: @Soundwave «I thought it was a... silly, utopian notion—a universe where Cybertron is unambiguously better off, not just subjectively. But it's a year later and I still keep thinking about it.» Whirl: I'm telling you, you join the Wreckers, they're gonna be the best damn years of your life. Take it from someone who knows. B l u r r: / scowls at Whirl / B l u r r: It isn’t a little “hang-up” Whirl: Yes, it is. ItsyBitsySpyers: *…That’s unexpected. He rearranges himself to get a better look and nod. Go on; he’s listening.* B l u r r: No, it isn’t. Whirl: Then lay it out for me. FakeProwl: *no, that’s it. his point’s finished.* B l u r r: I don’t like humans for a REASON. B l u r r: You KNOW the reason. Whirl: Because it seems like a stupid thing to get caught up on, if you’re just feeling pis sy because the humans you’re protecting are the same species as the ones who screwed you over. ItsyBitsySpyers: \AW, C'MON. YA GOTTA SAVE LIKE. A COUPLE FLESHIES. THEY MAKE GREAT HORROR FILMS.\ B l u r r: / crosses arms and just vents / B l u r r: Forget it. Whirl: *snorts, but, shockingly, does back off on the humans thing* Whirl: Regardless… *raises his claw, as if to whap, but instead nudges* It’s good. Whirl: I think that’s it. B l u r r: / rolls optic / Whirl: How do you even–what is it that people say at times like this? “I’m happy for you?” B l u r r: Their family… they’re not gonna like me. B l u r r: / mumbles and rubs his abused shoulder / B l u r r: It doesn’t matter anyway. I already told him my answer. ItsyBitsySpyers: *Prowl might think his point’s finished, but he’s sparked a bit of curiosity.* @Prowl: (txt): Memory revisitation reason? ItsyBitsySpyers: \WHADJA SAY?\ Whirl: That’s how it works. Whirl: Not at first, probably, but knock em around a bit, get into a few life-or-death scrapes, and pry enough bullets out of each other, and you’ll warm up to one another. Whirl: *ZOOP* And? FakeProwl: @Soundwave «… I don’t know.» B l u r r: and what? Whirl: *whaps* You KNOW what, knucklehead. FakeProwl: @Soundwave «I mean—I know right now. Right now, it’s because we’re talking about finding a Cybertron that went better than ours. But in general, I don’t know.» B l u r r: / scowls and swats back at him jokingly/ I told him yes! Forpit sake… knock it off. Whirl: *sways dramatically under the hit and snickers* THOUGHT so. Whirl: But trust me–you won’t regret it. Whirl: Look, I get it–you’re feeling conflicted. A lot of mecha do, I mean, not just for the reasons you do. Whirl: ((…swap those two)) B l u r r: It’s different with me for many reasons… FakeProwl: ((did it just refresh for anyone else?)) Whirl: It’s different for everyone. Whirl: ((not me :|a)) FakeProwl: ((CAN SOMEBODY SEND ME THE LOG THEN PLEASE)) Whirl: But like I said--best years of your life. Nothing else comes close. ItsyBitsySpyers: ((can do)) FakeProwl: ((my record goes up to "B l u r r: / scowls at Whirl /")) B l u r r: I'm not moving in with him... FakeProwl: ((thank)) ItsyBitsySpyers: @Prowl: (txt): ...In utopia, Prowl rests. Whirl: Well, obviously, you've got to stay with your crew. ItsyBitsySpyers: @Prowl: (txt): This - current plan, old plan, all - not needed. Weight gone. Whirl: But it's--you know. It's a thing. *you were handed a place to belong ona  silver platter, Blurr; it doesn't get better than that* B l u r r: Aside from that, there's new alliances. B l u r r: A new map. ItsyBitsySpyers: \\I HEARD NEW MAP.\\ Whirl: Yep... *simulates a loud sniff and mimes wiping a single tear from his optic* I can't believe it. Teach, growin' up. Whirl: And joining the Wreckers. B l u r r: ... oh stop. /fiddling with claws / B l u r r: There's just one... tiny problem. FakeProwl: @Soundwave «... There are a lot of scenarios where I rest. Starscream dying. Somebody writing a highly sympathetic tell-all book about my life that makes me out to be a hero. Cybertron exploding.» Whirl: I'm never going to stop, and you're going to have to learn to accept it. Whirl: Damn, Blurr. You really got it all going for you, don't you? A damn sight better than you used to. FakeProwl: @Soundwave «I don't linger on THOSE phantasms.» Whirl: *nudges, and there is even a hint of sincerity in his voice* Good goin'. B l u r r: ... What do you mean? B l u r r: / looks confused / B l u r r: / but smirks just a bit / B l u r r: Maybe you guys can come over sometime. It's not my place to invite mechs over, but... you know. ItsyBitsySpyers: @Prowl: (txt) This, -perfect- rest. That, utopia basis. Constructicons gone. Enemies gone. Personal struggles eased. Freedom owned. Whirl: If you ever need a chopper to help you blow stuff up again, feel free to call me in. I'm an expert. I can be your ***-kicking consultant. B l u r r: K-Kyeheheeh. Yeah, I suppose. FakeProwl: @Soundwave «Finding a universe where everything had gone right wouldn't neutralize my enemies or pull the Constructicons out of my mind.» B l u r r: We'll have to see what storm the planet brings us Whirl: *salutes* Keep me updated. And let me know when you need more stuff don with these--*gestures to the gun cart* Whirl: Gives me something to do. ItsyBitsySpyers: @Prowl: (txt): Negative. However, imagining self there since beginning: appealing. That, personal theory. Perhaps Soundwave: wrong. Possible. Idea only. B l u r r: … I haven’t told him about the weaponry and my processor. B l u r r: I don’t know if it’s going to last, but I can try. Little by little. FakeProwl: @Soundwave «I haven’t been imagining myself there since the beginning.» Whirl: …@Blurr: it might not. Good things rarely do. ItsyBitsySpyers: \UH. YEAH, MAYBE I'MMA RAINCHECK YA ON THE VISIT A WHILE. EX-CON. Y'KNOW.\ Whirl: @Blurr: So enjoy it while you can. B l u r r: So what, Frenzy? They don’t care. FakeProwl: @Soundwave «I’ve just been thinking about Pipes’s search for a universe like that.» ItsyBitsySpyers: *Really? Surprising. He nods and accepts his correction.* B l u r r: @Whirl: Don’t know how well that’ll go. Whirl: *shrugs in response* ANYWAY… I’m going to go on. B l u r r: Yet, I admit… /presses claws on his scarred jaw/ He has this way with violence that tears limbs from sockets and it’s absolutely perfect. Whirl: Seriously, Teach. *pauses. And then suddenly LASHES OUT IN ANOTHER PLAYFUL WAP* Good going. B l u r r: / makes a noise and swats back at / Whirl: *snickers* FakeProwl: @Soundwave «… I don’t understand how people can do that—fantasize about history having gone differently.» FakeProwl: @Soundwave «I’d think that the more mentally elaborate the alternate history becomes, the more bitter and disappointing reality becomes.» Whirl: Later, losers. *waves to Blurr and the gathered mecha* If you wanna take advantage of bing tangible, Prowl, better do it now. ItsyBitsySpyers: *Frenzy waves* FakeProwl: … Hm. B l u r r: / waves claw/ FakeProwl: *leans head over for crest tap?* B l u r r: / fiddling with claws. Looks at Frenzy/ Anyway… B l u r r: You should come over again. I found a new map. ItsyBitsySpyers: *More than willing to indulge that. Might ping Whirl a thank-you.* ItsyBitsySpyers: \WHERE’S IT GO?\ ItsyBitsySpyers: \AIN’T ANOTHER THUNDERTRON, IS IT? I WAS PICKIN’ PIECES OUTTA MY SPINES FOR DAYS.\ Whirl: *he’ll pause in the doorway long enough for it to happen, throw one last salute, and trot off* ItsyBitsySpyers: @Prowl: (txt): In cell, living death, reality already bitter, disappointing. History divergence scenarios: appealing. *A pause.* Prowl not all wrong. Later, escape, vengeance scenarios preferred. B l u r r: No no… Thundertron is good and dead. B l u r r: I don’t know where it goes. That’s the fun. ItsyBitsySpyers: \HOW DO YA KNOW IT AIN’T GONNA BLACK HOLE YA?\ B l u r r: What’s the fun in knowin? The fun of piracy is never knowing where you’re going, just knowing what you’re chasing B l u r r: Besides… I’m confident that there is no black hole. FakeProwl: @Soundwave «… I’ve never been able to find solace in fantasies. Any solace in any context. Past divergences, future hypotheticals—even at my lowest moments.» FakeProwl: @Soundwave «I think I’m not wired for it.» ItsyBitsySpyers: \YEAH? THEN WHATCHA PLANNIN’ TO DO?\ ItsyBitsySpyers: @Prowl: (txt): Different. Interesting. What done, in lowest moment? Where found, solace? B l u r r: Just see what’s on the other side… to find the treasure. B l u r r: Maybe fight. K-Kyeheheheh. FakeProwl: *a long, long silence* ItsyBitsySpyers: *Frenzy “whispers”.* \CAN I COME?\ FakeProwl: *the silence is still going* B l u r r: / smirks and leans over. Whisper / Yes, of course. Actually, I have a question for you. ItsyBitsySpyers: *…Uncertain shift. Should he not have asked that? He doesn’t know what’s wrong with the questions, but…* FakeProwl: @Soundwave «………………………. Magnets help.» ItsyBitsySpyers: *Frenzy scoots in and wiggles in excitement.* B l u r r: How would you /motions to Frenzy/ Like to be a member of the crew ? Officially? You don’t have to travel with us, but you’ll be considered an alliance. You’ll be someone who will be invited on- B l u r r: every hunt. And allowed on the ship whenever you like. ItsyBitsySpyers: *Soundwave is suddenly 300x more glad he thought to have Tarantulas smuggle some to Prowl during the prison stay.* ItsyBitsySpyers: \…NO KIDDIN’?\ B l u r r: No kidding. ItsyBitsySpyers: *A loud, loud whoop. That’s a yes.* FakeProwl: *winces* B l u r r: K-KYeheheheh. / reaches into subspace and motions for Frenzy to come over / ItsyBitsySpyers: *If he scoots much closer he’ll stab Blurr with all his pointy bits. But he’ll scoot a little more.* ItsyBitsySpyers: @Prowl (txt): Noted. Much explained. … Personal collection, Soundwave’s. B l u r r: / go ahead. Pain is invited./ Here. /holds out a metal symbol. It is their pirate symbol. / B l u r r: For you to carry so my crew knows you. ItsyBitsySpyers: *Frenzy glances around, snatches the symbol, and stuffs it right into his subspace with a grin.* B l u r r: / smirks/ B l u r r: Welcome to the Skeleton Crew’s alliance. B l u r r: They like you, you know. The crew. ItsyBitsySpyers: \THAT IS THE COOLEST FRAGGIN’ NAME.\ ItsyBitsySpyers: \YEAH?\ B l u r r: K-Kyeheheheh. You like that? B l u r r: / nod nod / Yes. Dart especially liked you and your abilities. ItsyBitsySpyers: *Proud puff up* B l u r r: / smirks/ And I like you. I think you’re all interesting. B l u r r: But you. You helped find Thundertron. It’s only right you get to be part of the crew. ItsyBitsySpyers: \…I DON’T GOTTA BE PART OF THE SHIP THOUGH, RIGHT? LIKE THEM MOVIES WITH THE FEELER-FACE FLESHIE.\ B l u r r: No no… that’s for the mechs we kil. B l u r r: *kill ItsyBitsySpyers: \GROSS.\ He snickers though. \KAY. I’M HONORED TO BE ACCEPTIN’, SIR.\ B l u r r: …/smirks / Captain. ItsyBitsySpyers: \UH, RIGHT. CAP'N.\ B l u r r: / nod nod/ So, you’re always invited. B l u r r: Of course, if Soundwave lets you. ItsyBitsySpyers: \COURSE. BOSS FIRST, ‘N ALL THAT. CAN’T BE NO OTHER WAY.\ ItsyBitsySpyers: \I GOTTA HURRY UP 'N GET BACK THOUGH.\ ItsyBitsySpyers: *Darts back over to Soundwave. The others follow shortly after.* FakeProwl: *Soundwave's about to leave? a farewell ping* ItsyBitsySpyers: *He starts to give another crest bump, realizes he can't, realizes he CAN but probably shouldn't do that here for something so small, and gives one as best he can to a non-solid hologram anyway.* FakeProwl: *fuzzy non-bump* ItsyBitsySpyers: (txt): Must continue apartment upgrade, check Ravage Metroplex progress. ItsyBitsySpyers: (txt): Will see next opportunity.  *Rises.* FakeProwl: *nods* See you next time. FakeProwl: *disappears*

d194-199

some of these days are reposted but, um. im really tired RN and i also edited a bunch of these and they are allpart of the same thing (rome museum mission) so...sorry!

-------------------------

Thursday, 3/20/2008, 16:50

Museum of Art

Rome

-------------------------

Getting a hold of my new PDA took an hour; sweeping the museum took a couple more. Fast-talking my way past a guard, and then checking out the ‘off limits to the public’ areas took another few.

I was halfway through an archived collection of old, dark paintings when Mina called.

“I’m in the museum,” I reported.

She hesitated, then the PDA screen froze, and video feed of the safehouse appeared.

“Mike, I just picked up something on the cameras…”

Madison, standing in front of the window, cradling her phone to her ear. At the front door, two armed men in suits and black gloves carefully pushing the door open.

Move, I willed her, already a knot in my stomach telling me it was pointless.

“It’s Marburg’s men,” Mina narrated, also pointless. I had eyes. “They have Madison.”

One man swung his gun at her, shouted something. She gripped the phone harder, lips moving rapidly.

“How,” I asked.

Mina hesitated again, a small intake of breath while the gunmen in the safehouse fired a warning shot over Saint James’ head. She jerked back. Afraid.

“She was calling the cops. They traced it.” Mina explained.

Madison dropped the phone. They approached her carefully. The feed jumped to them strong arming her out of the door.

Mina’d done some editing.

“When?” I asked.

“An hour ago.”

“Where’d they take her?”

“I don’t know,” Mina said. “But, Mike, we need to-”

“The mission, I know.”

People you care about will start to die.

She’d be fine.

She would be fine.

I’d honestly believed she would make it out okay. Somehow.

“The cops?” I asked.

“I’ll keep an eye out.”

“Thanks,” I said, and disconnected.

-

The rows of paintings never ended. The first time I found one of Marburg’s men standing at the end of an aisle, I thought things might be close to being over. Then I found another, and another, and I realized it was never going to end.

“Four hundred feet north,” Mina instructed. “No, Mike, other north.”

“Hard to tell in here.”

A yellowed light flickered overhead.

I ducked past another cross aisle, then doubled back. A few yards away, a wooden door was ajar, hard blue light showing through the cracks. A voice issued precise commands, faint at this distance, clearer and clearer as I got closer.

“And for all those who weren’t paying attention at the briefing,” the man said, “We have an insider man at the museum giving us access to the tunnel system that’s normally used for moving relics in the middle of the night.”

“Relics like your mom?” someone challenged, to light laughter.

“We show up,” the first man said impassively, “in the middle of the museum at Sigma point and move through at H hour plus two. Each team is responsible for keeping the museum crowd under control. Yeah, yeah, Jenkins, we know a night time mission would be easier, but the man upstairs wants broad daylight. So, he’ll get broad daylight. Again, do not, under any circumstance ditch your equipment thinking the blast will destroy the evidence. We’re counting on the authorities being able to analyze the slightest scrap of incinerated material, thus Vulture team placing the bodies. Stow your gear, and drop nothing.”

“That’s what she said.”

“Minimum safe distance, Jenny, is half a klick. I would suggest you get even farther away, as there’s going to be lots of stone thrown about the area, but you could use some stones, buddy.”

More laughter.

“Nice try,” said presumably Jenkins.

I went in shooting. If there was anyone in earshot, I hadn’t seen them. In the small space, with their weapons holstered, their guard down, laughter on their faces while they were talking about domestic terrorism? The four of them didn’t stand much of a chance. One got off a couple shots at me, but that was it.

“Where are the tunnels?” I asked Mina.

She searched while I picked my way over the bodies, towards the laptop hooked up to a projector.

“Working on it,” she said.

They’d left it logged in. Two clicks, and I had access to their email. Team movements, reports, encoded-

Madison.

Her name was in the middle of the email. I had to reread the first few sentences over and over before I could make myself understand anything.

From: Ops Team To: #JollyRoger Subject: Live Asset

Attn,

Slight change of plans. We have a live asset with us today, just in case our interloper shows up. Madison Saint James is to be taken to the evac point Phi and held until go code Orange. If she makes too much noise, she is to be sedated. Under no circumstance is she to be injured unless you hear a change of orders (and that comes from Marburg). If anyone tries any funny business with the live asset, they will be killed (Marburg’s words, not mine).

-Ops Team

The guilt ballooned up. If I’d let it, it would have taken over.

This was my fault.

She wasn’t to be injured.

She wasn’t.

“They’ve got Madison somewhere,” I reported. I pushed the guilt aside. Save it for later. Promise it that it could have me, later. Once I had her back.

I’d thought…well. They said she wasn’t to be harmed. I didn’t have time to do anything but believe it.

“Understood,” Mina said. “Sending the tunnel schematics to your phone. Get out of the archive, and go left.”

-  

The stairs down to the tunnels were damp and empty, except for the corpse of a museum security guard, lying half on the stairs and half on the landing above me.

“Mina,” I asked. “Is there anyone still in the museum?”

“It’s normal hours,” she reminded, a note of curiosity in her voice. “A few tour groups…security guards. It’s a light day for tourists, but that’s still a lot of people if the bombs go off.”

“I won’t let it happen.”

It didn’t look like the security guard had gone peacefully. Two bullet wounds in the chest, one across the temple. Someone had been in a hurry.

And had gone upstairs.

So the team had split. Why?

Footsteps, from up the stairs. I took a few steps back, and hidbehind the door.

A low grunt, and the sound of a body being dragged.

“Fuck this,” someone grumbled, in a whisper.

I peeked out. One of Marburg’s men was staring directly at me. He blinked, looked down at the body, and when he looked back up he was facing the barrel of my assault rifle.

He spread his arms, dropping the body. Then he pointed upstairs.

“Rifles make a lot of noise,” he said casually, and shrugged. “Sure you wanna do this?”

“Where’s the bombs?” I asked.

“There’s an exhibit in the North Wing on the Jingkang incident. There might be a few fire lance replicas there,” he said innocently. “Is that what you’re looking for?”

“You know what I mean.”

“I-” he said.

Muffled sharp gunshots from far up the stairs.

He went for the pistol on his belt. I shot him twice.

“Mike,” Mina radioed, “you need to hurry.”

There were too many stairs to run up them all, but no time to walk.

“What’s going on?”

“It…sounds like Marburg’s men are attacking the security guards.” she said. “Security’s outnumbered, they’ll be slaughtered.”

The lobby was designed to be pretty – a massive marble hall with arched ceilings and heavy staircases and large expanses of intricate marble tilework marking off café sections and waiting sections and a place for tourists to wait in line. I don’t think the designer had accounted for pitched battle. With no cover, and with Marburg’s men coming down the staircases, and with the element of surprise, security hadn’t stood much of a chance. Five of them were already on the ground, only a couple breathing. One guard had taken cover behind an errant and empty display case. She was firing at a man on an upper balcony clear across the room. Another guard was crouched in the café behind an Ale Salute vending machine, ducking out with a shotgun every few seconds to fire uselessly at the two men proceeding down the central staircase. A third slammed into the wall next to me, wrestling desperately with the arms around his throat.

The guard saw me. Marburg’s man didn’t. I dashed forward and locked the VCI in a chokehold. He dropped the guard and started tearing at my forearm with his nails. I yanked him back a step, the guard reached out and stole the man’s pistol from his belt, and then put three rounds in his chest. I dropped the body and we both traded a silent thanks at one another.

Then the guard stiffened and pointed over my shoulder. We hit the ground beside the dead VCI, and I winced as several rifle rounds imploded the marble wall above my head.

The guy on balcony was fumbling with a reload. The guard beside me got back to his feet a split-second before me, but I was faster with aiming. Our shots hit at the same time. The man on the balcony slumped against the stone balustrades. His rifle fell over the edge and clattered on the ground.

“Grazie ancora,” I said, out loud this time. He nodded back, mouth set in a grim line.

The guard behind the display case, free from the danger of Balcony Man, pulled out her radio and shouted into it. She and the guard in the café advanced at the same time centering and firing at the men coming down the staircase in one smooth motion. They didn’t need my help.

The shooting was over, for the moment.

They all turned at looked at me.

“Uh…” I said. I didn’t look the least bit official. I’d come from the goddamn tunnels with a bright gold assault rifle and I was in civvies. They looked at me all the same.

“Evacuate the civilians,” I ordered quickly, in Italian. “About half a, uh…”

Fuck was the word for klick? Fuck was the conversion rate?

“Half a kilometer,” I said. “Got it?”

They nodded, and scattered.

“Stay together!” I yelled at their backs.

The main staircase ended in a split, the East Wing to the right, and the West Wing to the left.

“Mina,” I asked, “you have any-”

The PA system in the hallway let out a small, rattled electric shriek, then settled into a staticky transmission.

“Agent Thorton,” Marburg announced magnanimously. “You made it – good, that makes things interesting. We have Madison. She’s being held in the west wing of the museum. My men have orders to execute her.”

He paused. The urge to shoot out the PA system was growing.

“That where your bombs are, too?” I challenged.

“No,” he said, “the bombs are with me – at the Crusades exhibit. You won’t have time to reach both. Either way…”

He paused again, the smile aggravatingly audible. “Someone dies.”

“Your right about that, Marburg. Why don’t you stay put, I’ll be right there.”

“Left or right, Thorton – your choice. Madison – or coming after me and the bombs. There’s not time for both.”

The whining static cut out, immediately followed by the whining static of my earpiece.

“Mike,” Mina said. “Madison – she’s in the wing to your left…but the Crusades exhibit is in the wing to the right.”

“I know,” I said. “I get it.”

If he was telling the truth. If he had her.

I assumed he was trying to play me. Like everyone else had been, lately.

“Which was should I go?” I asked.

“I don’t know, Mike – you’ll have to make the call. But I don’t think Marburg is bluffing.”

I did.

Or maybe it’s just what I’d wanted to believe.

-----

The East Wing was full of old Italian art, renaissance, by the look of it. I didn’t have much time to check. I was too busy dodging bullets and in one case, a throwing knife with the VCI’s wing and stars laser-etched into the blade’s base.

Another one sliced through the air and embedded itself in an already tattered canvas. I put the last of my rifle rounds into its owner’s chest, and took the knife with me. The edge cut through the edge of a painted blue robe a figure playing a lute. The canvas made a small tearing noise as I tugged the knife free.

Mina hadn’t said a thing through the whole fight, and she didn’t now.

----

“I’m picking up some interference on the channel,” Mina reported, shouting to be heard over VCI machine pistol fire. “And judging from the frequencies…there’s some proximity mines near your location!”

“I’ll keep an eye out!” I shouted back, trying to watch both the blatantly obvious yellow blinking mine on the column above my head, and the VCI approaching behind it.  

I had two seconds after jumping up and grabbing it to fling it towards the VCI, and dive away.

----

The smoking autoturret finally detonated, sending the throwing knife implanted in its guiding camera whizzing halfway across the room. The hilt was scorched, and the blade still radiated heat when I retrieved it.

-----

Security was dead. They’d clearly been left where they landed, falling down the marble stairs in the room. A few had made it to the centerpiece of the Crusades exhibit, a collection of massive brassy gold statues of elephants. There were bullet holes in the columns around the edges of the room. Indicators, maybe, of who they’d been fighting again.

The VCI were gone now. And when I approached the crates stashed in between the elephant statues, I could see why.

2:59:14.

The counter was decreasing rapidly. Another second ticked off.

The mess of wires the counter was nestled into was connected to a hell of a lot of crates.

Half a klick my ass.

“Three minutes,” I reported.

“Get ready for evac!” someone else shouted.

Too late, I realized several balconies were overlooking the center exhibit. And that’s where the VCI has decided to camp.

I fell, tucking myself behind the nearest crate of high explosives.

It didn’t help. They’d seen me.

Several bullets pinged sparks of the side of an elephant statue.

“Mike?” Mina asked.

“Working on it.”

I fired blind. No screams, still too many bullets coming for me. They fired, and I fired back. The timer counted down. We were going to die here. I didn’t know a thing about bomb defusal, not this kind, not – and Madison – and they kept shooting.

My rifle jammed with a sharp, harsh click I could feel in my bones.

Calm down.

“Mina,” I said, “Give me thirty second intervals – and in about a minute, I’m going to need you to talk me through defusing this.”

“Two minutes, thirty seconds,” she said. “Get me a picture of the detonator.”

“Copy.”

Clear the rifle. Hope it wasn’t serious. Tap the magazine back into place, rerack and fire over my head. It’s working, someone screams, dive roll out of cover while you still have a chance. Take cover again, this time behind the crates with the detonator. Fire. Stop, take the picture. Send it. Back to firing.

“Receiving,” Mina said.

Sneak a glance up. Nearly lose your head for it. Quick, think. There were two in front of you, for sure. But they’d be looking…

Turn around. He’s staring at through pistol sights. Hope his range is worse than yours. Swing around, fire at the same time. Are you dead? No? Good. Is he? Good.

“Two minutes,” Mina said.

“Two minutes, boys!” I shouted up at the last two. They might leave. They didn’t. Dedication, great.

Less shooting at me, though.

“Run while you still can!” I advised. “Half a klick! Think you can do that in two minutes?”

The shooting stopped slowly.

“Marburg will never know!” I said. “Unless you really think I can defuse these in, what? A minute thirty?”

“One forty-five, actually,” Mina pointed out.

They took off.

What were they thinking of me, right then?

“One thirty,” Mina said. “Are you ready?”

The first detonator was blinking, counting down quickly.

“Ready,” I said.

“We’re lucky. Do exactly what I say, quickly. We should have time.”

“Got it.”

“These are…” she said, then paused. “No, the design number don’t matter, just – okay. There should be four black buttons on the side. There should also be at least two wires on the left– three? Is it two, or three?”

“Mina?”

“Sorry, hang on.”

“Uh,” I said. “There are about a dozen wires.”

Silence, except for the detonator beeping. 59…58

“Mina?”

“Hang on.”

“We don’t really-”

“Okay,” she said calmly. “Forget the wires. There’s an override code that should reset the time. And another one to…I don’t know. Glitch the system, or something.”

“Should?”

“We can debate later; just do it. Leftmost button twice, third four times, second once, first twice-”

The beeping was almost drowning out her voice. “Slow down, Mina.”

“I can’t. Keep up.”

I tried, I really did. I got to the last one and was half sure the museum was going up then and there. It didn’t. The detonator skipped from 28 to 0, I had a miniature heart attack, and then the detonator switched off.

“Okay…” I said slowly, “I think-”

“There should be a second one in the opposite corner,” Mina informed me.

The heart attack was slightly less miniature, this time.

Running through the statues took three seconds; finding the seconds detonator another two. 23, 22-

“Hurry,” she said, repeating her instructions all over again and this time, I didn’t bother asking her to take it easy. I finished with all of one second to spare. It felt like an eternity. An empty one. No thinking, just sitting back against the dead crates, sliding to the ground, breathing. Not believing it was over. Who would I have to fight, to stop them from coming back? And just turning the things back on again? Fuck. They’d know by now, know the bombs hadn’t gone off, they’d be on their way back. Maybe I could organize security, or something, maybe – Madison had called the cops, though. They could-

Madison. Marburg had her. Marburg had her, fuck, fuck, where? Outside the museum, maybe? Anywhere in Rome. Anywhere in the world. I-

Footsteps. And her voice.

“Mike!” she shouted, talking fast, sounding stained. “Get out of here! Marburg is-”

Across the room and up the stairs, A VCI man in a suit caught up with Madison. He got her head in a lock and forced a hand over her mouth. Marburg strolled in behind them.

“It’s over!” I said. “Let her go!”

Madison mmphfd through the VCI’s hand. She struggled with him, even when he tightened her hold. She did. She tried.

Marburg gazed down at me. He took in the dead security guards, and the dead screen on the detonators, and the rifle strapped on my back.

He smiled.

“Do as he says,” he ordered, with a dismissive wave.

The VCI man pushed Madison away. She stumbled. She looked back over her shoulder at the lot of them, the VCI guard, and Marburg, and another one walking in. The two guards stared ahead impassively. Marburg kept his eyes on me.

Madison was looking at me, too. She was. How was I supposed to look away?

I nodded gently. She took a step, wrapping her arms around herself. She was wearing the same salmon colored blazer she’d been wearing the first day we met. She looked cold anyway.

I took a step towards her, and one of the guards pointed his shotgun at me. Madison shook her head. She looked backwards at Marburg again, then started down the stairs. She tried to smile at me. She didn’t have it in her; I didn’t either.

I was looking at her. I didn’t see it happening until it was too late.

“Deus Vult,” Marburg said quietly, the black and silver pistol in his hand.

He didn’t recoil with the shot. Neither did Madison. It seemed like just a noise, like we’d all agreed to pretend we heard a gunshot at the same time. The pistol shot sound happened, and Madison stopped walking. Her eyes widened. She looked down at the growing bloodstain showing through her jacket. She looked back up at me, with confusion, and questions, and uncertainty, and then her eyes went unfocused.

Her knees buckled, and she fell onto the stairs. Her body went limp, and slid a few steps more.

It only took me seconds to reach her. It didn’t matter. She was already dead.

Marburg sighed. “You brought it on her,” he said.

She lay facedown on the marble. I couldn’t bring myself to turn her head. Couldn’t touch her, couldn’t comfort her – not that she need me too – did she? Need me? Still?

I didn’t know if she believed in an afterlife. It hit hard. I didn’t even know if she wanted to be buried, I didn’t know anything about her-

Except that she wasn’t a spy. Couldn’t have been. Not with the way Marburg had- not with the way he- she couldn’t have been, couldn’t have been anything but afraid and calling the police to- and I- this was my-

No. “You pulled the trigger,” I growled at the fucker on the stairs. I had my rifle. One of Marburg’s men put a warning shot past my side.

Marburg had his pistol in hand and a neutral smile on his face. “Don’t blame me,” he said. “You made your choice.”

“Don’t give me that third party bullshit, Marburg. I’m-”

No. No, he wasn’t getting out of it that easy. No cops. No police. She’d wanted it but that, that was…over, or…should be? I didn’t know. I didn’t care. I was going to kill that son of a bitch and I was going to do it now.

He looked at me with raised eyebrows and an air of impatience.

He deserved to know. Deserved to feel it coming. Deserved to know.

“I’m gonna kill you,” I told him, smiled when he didn’t react, because it was going to be all the better when his new reality suddenly sunk in. “Quickly. Which is more than a coward who shoots women in the back deserves.”

“I may give you that chance, Thorton,” he said, clasping his hands together in front of him, gun disappearing into a holster. “If only to further your edu-”

His guard’s shotgun blast went wide. He hadn’t been expecting me to move backwards. An angry, impulsive rush up the stairs, maybe, and- and I almost did, it would have been so satisfying, but I had to live if I wanted to kill him. Backwards it was, dashing back and falling into cover behind a pillar, a wide view of the stairs and the body at the base- and-

Marburg’s men came hurrying down the stairs, laying down cover fire with shotguns. I shot blind. They survived it.

“I’m impressed,” Marburg shouted over the constant sound of shotguns, layered one after another, and return rifle fire, frantic, ill-timed, going to get me killed if I kept up like that.

“You stay focused,” he rambled, “carried out your mission, disarmed the bombs…”

I ducked back as a shotgun blast caught the edge of the pillar, and blew apart the outer layer of wood.

“…and left her for last. I didn’t think you had it in you.”

“Mike,” Mina warned, “he’s trying to provoke you.”

I didn’t care. I wanted it. I curled a finger around the trigger-

“Mike,” she said stern, absolute, angry.

Swallow the feeling. Force it down. Try to breathe-

“Oh, the choices an agent in your line of work has to make everyday…” he mused. His shoe soles tapping as he went down the stairs. If he touched her, if he so much as went near her…

“Did you think you had time? No, no, no. No, I was quite clear with you about that. You knew, Thorton.”

Another cold Thorton from Mina. A shotgun round from a VCI – Deus Vult – from a guard.

More of his footsteps.

“Maybe you thought you could be a hero, save her…”

He didn’t know a goddamn thing. I was going to tear the sick fucker apart.

“Agent Thorton…” Mina said.

His footsteps stopped. I glanced out in between shotgun shots. He was standing next to her body, pistol pointed at her head.

He glanced over at me and tsked. “It doesn’t work that way,” he said.

A round from a shotgun forced me back into cover. There was a single pistol shot, and I knew, I knew-

I came out shooting. He smiled. There was an awkward hole in the marble beside her body with the bullet casing right there, and he smiled.

“Shit, Mike, fuck-” Mina swore. “Get out of there!”

It didn’t matter. If they hit me. So long as I got him. And I did. I had him. He was smiling and he didn’t expect it, underestimation, distraction? Who the fuck knows, I had a line on his forehead and a finger on the trigger and in the distance, faint sirens, Madison’s sirens.

I froze.

I was going to choke. I couldn’t breathe, I couldn’t even see him. Except I knew I had the shot, I knew I did, I had to have had it. And I didn’t do it. I sat there shaking because the rifle was so damn heavy in my hands.

He smiled even more.

“I’m going to enjoy killing you, Thorton,” he said, and ran.

NO.

I went after him, the shotgun guards ducking out of cover. One went down, doubled over, the shock of taking a frisbeed assault rifle to the stomach, the other surprised enough for a second that I had a chance to tackle him, pull his shotgun free, bash his nose in with it and send him running in the opposite direction at gunpoint. The other one shot at me with my own damn rifle, the shots going too far to the left. I yanked it out of his hands.

“It does that,” I said.

I added several shots at his feet, and he ran too.

There were heavy metal security doors closing at the top of the exhibit. Marburg was already through them. I slid through at the last second, nearly having to roll.

The autoturret wasn’t smoking anymore. The room almost looked peaceful. Columns and art and pots on stands. It should have been full of tourists this time of day.

Noise from the back of the room, near the main exit to the exhibit.

“I expected more from a self-appointed hero,” Marburg said, voice echoing, sneer audible. “You are disposable and obsolete.”

I crouched beside the nearest cover, a large column with a painting on the other side.

“Says the corporate tool who answers to Leland,” I told him, concentrating, listening. Triangulating.

“I work for Halbech. You…”

He laughed. I could almost see where he was standing, almost…

“You’re a man without a country, Thorton. You’re me, twenty years ago.”

“What’s that in dog years?”

“Even if you escape, I know how your story ends.”

Got him.

“Keep talking,” I said. “Lets me know where to shoot.”

“Enough of this,” he spat, with sudden venom.

Let this work. Please.

I picked the right column, decorating it with rifle rounds, but he went running and I couldn’t do it. I fucking- I had him, I swear I did but I was dizzy. He ran off with only one token shot back at me, ran off and through the next security door, and I couldn’t and I was cursing myself because I was halfway across the room and I was never going to get there, and I was never- I tried, though, I-

“Mike!” Mina said, cutting through a steam of angry curses.

“Dammit, he’s getting away!”

“There’s nothing you can do now, Mike,” she said placatingly, gently, giving up. “Get out of there.”

She was right, and if I could stop feeling sick for a second I could move- I could-

“There’ll be another time,” she promised.

Right. And that was a fucking promise I could hold on to. This wasn’t it. I was going to kill that son of a bitch, I was, I swore it. I promised.

The sirens were louder now. The tunnels were still intact. An escape route.

I glanced back at the closed security gate leading to the Crusades exhibit. I couldn’t even go back to-

Don’t think about it, I thought.

Don’t think about it.

Just…don’t.

Okay.

I won’t.

“Heading out,” I told Mina, and headed for a side exhibit. “Get me direction to the tunnel.”

“Got it,” she said.

I ignored the sound of relief in her voice.